


The Theory Of You.

by DirtyMartini (Zetaii)



Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M, Slow Build, angsty af, but also smut, if you love pain you should read this, teacher!JB and student Mark, ya girl writes her first chaptered fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 07:12:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 49,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6460807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zetaii/pseuds/DirtyMartini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"To conclude," He said. "We're automatically attracted to people who have the things we lack."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Theory One.

  
_“Nothing is more repugnant in love than the honest truth.”_

-

  
It wasn't supposed to sound poetic, really, when Mark said it rained both outside and inside of the building.  
  
It honestly felt like it did, and Mark was afraid he might've choked and drowned and died at any second, any moment and flash of instance if the lesson wasn't going to end soon.  
  
“To conclude, Aristotle's theory of love was that we are automatically attracted to people who complete us; have things we don't, while we have the things they lack.”  
  
What a bunch of bullshit. Mark thought, the rain pouring down harder, angrier, stronger and more vigorously while he was looking outside of the dirty window with his chin resting on his palm, ticking the ballpoint pen on the table in a slow rhythm that only he could follow but everyone would just be annoyed by.  
  
Not that anyone was going to say anything, anyway.  
  
The person next to him - of whom he didn't even remember the name of - was sleeping or was at least pretend sleeping. The girls in front of them too shy to say anything or pretending to be nice. The teacher, however, clearly noticed.  
  
Just like Mark noticed the palm trees getting wrecked and fucked by the wind; pulled down possessively begging them into a hug with the floor - the palm trees didn´t give in, though, but the trashcan which was sadly attached by weak, old metal got ripped off and thrown against the school gate.  
  
With a loud crash that might've just been in his head, Mark slowly turned his head.  
  
The teacher, Im Jaebum, was looking at him.  
  
Or more like he was looking straight into him, right through him, all over him and his every inch and pore and movements he himself wasn't even conscious of - Mark felt exposed. Vulnerable. Unconsciously permissive.  
  
Somewhat submissive.  
  
“And with that said, _that's_ his theory of love. Any questions?”  
  
There weren't any. The rain crashed down so hard Mark was convinced the sky was falling down with it; he felt it in the classroom, the used and abused air everyone shared, breathed in and breathed out; he thought he was going to gag and drown in it - between the chewing gum stuck on the floor and the pen scribbles on the tiles of the walls that have been there for more than a decade.  
  
It was a tragic place to drown and die in, really.  
  
Right after Mark stopped shaking, hearing every single drop of the rain ticking and tapping against the window, the teacher opened the door, and with that Mark felt like he opened the dam that was holding the water in, choking him with it, and suddenly he could breathe again.

  
  
-

  
  
Mark had one friend.  
  
Actually, by literal definition, he had a handful of them.  
  
But if Mark were to look at himself from ten to twenty years from now; now being sitting in a basketball court eating bacon sandwiches and drinking beer, then hopefully being either dead or settled in and married, Mark could only see one person he'd still have frequent contact with.  
  
That friend was Jackson Wang; little basketball prodigy who missed his chance of a scholarship after he wrecked his wrists in a senseless night of drinking and crying over his ex-girlfriend.  
  
The morning after, he cried over completely different reasons, and it was the first time Mark had ever cried with someone else over problems that didn´t directly affect himself. If that is what being a friend means, then Mark definitely considered him a good one.  
  
They still played, though, or more like Mark sat down and watched Jackson throw hoops - these moments mostly wrapped in tense nostalgia that absolutely depressed Mark. Jackson was a good person. He didn't deserve this.  
  
“Think he's gay?”  
  
Dribble, dribble, shoot.  
  
“Who?”  
  
“The philosophy teacher.”  
  
It was quite a sight; pink and dark gray skies threatening for it to rain again; the wind still wheezing in their ears even though Jackson was apparently immune to the cold and still wore his wife beater and basketball shorts; while Mark was curled up in a sweater, long jeans and Jackson's jacket he stole from his house just to indulge his mother who screamed about catching colds.  
  
“I think all maths and philosophy teacher are asexual and don´t know what an orgasm is.”  
  
Jackson laughed, shooting the ball again.  
  
“You think he's hot, don´t lie to me.”  
  
“He's a teacher, man.” Mark hugged the jacket a little tighter. “You sleep through most of his classes anyway, what's with the curiosity?”  
  
“Because I woke up and I thought you were having some staring contest in the middle of class; you were blushing like a motherfucker.”  
  
Mark did not know how motherfuckers blushed, but he decided not to comment on it.  
  
“I felt anxious again, _that's_ why I was acting weird.”  
  
“Anxiety, huh? You should've told me, we could've gone outside for you to calm down.”  
  
“Nah. I'm trying to get over it.”  
  
Jackson threw the ball straight into the basket for the seventeenth time in a row.  
  
“Don't beat yourself up over it, Mark. I'm with you all the way through.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“You could´ve told me you had a thing for older men, though.”  
  
“Wha-?”  
  
And then he got a ball to his face, and Mark threw the jacket off of his body and ran after Jackson in the basketball court, hard and fast, laughing, the rain already slipping through the cracks until a loud thunder between the purples of the sky made them jump and the puddles could have made them trip easily.  
  
“My mom isn't home tonight, wanna go to the Chinese buy some beer and stay over?”  
  
Of course, Jackson accepted all too gladly.

  
  
-

  
  
“Nothing is more repugnant in love than the honest truth,”  
  
Mark took every little thing coming out of people mouth a little too seriously than he should have; so when Jackson mentioned the beauty of their teacher; young and well-dressed, Mark couldn´t help but stare a little longer, linger a bit more on the words coming out of his mouth.  
  
Pre-programmed in rejecting everything his tired teachers said, Mark actually found himself listening - and his words made their teacher alluring.  
  
Mark wondered how many people could see his beauty like this, how many people missed this opportunity - it was a rare sight to see a teacher with passion in his subject; rarer it was he didn't read out of the book and called it a day.  
  
The wind still ticked on the window, and the rain everlasting fasting him off of the sun that always made him feel a little calmer; Mark felt that Jaebum fit the darkness a little better.  
  
“Our art, as humans, is our lies. Our biggest concerns superficial.”  
  
Im Jaebum, twenty-something years old, Mark had the good faith he was going to lose the spark in his eyes at some point in his career - he stood tall, lean, dressed almost exclusively in monochrome; just like his hair, pitch black light the darkest of the night skies, his eyes that told stories, his nails clean, two beauty spots right under his eyebrows.  
  
He moved with confidence, sitting on the table and his arms firmly next to his sides - he didn´t have anything to be defensive about.  
  
“And with that said, I'll give you guys the exams.”  
  
“How did they go?” The token overachiever of the class asked.  
  
Jaebum just smiled. “It varies, Yugyeom: if it were up to me I'd scrap exams entirely, it´s the worst part of my job.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because it teaches kids that a number is all that matters; but these exams don´t define you. Just remember that.”  
  
And so he passed out the exams; some people beamed in happiness and others slumped in their seats - the overachiever Yugyeom looked like he was about to cry, and Jackson didn´t even bother to look at the paper when it landed on his desk.  
  
The teacher went back to his table, and Mark was left without his exam - he didn't particularly care, really, he knew he fucked it up, but Jackson recognized an opportunity when he saw one, so he raised his hand and asked for his friends exam.  
  
Jaebum looked up.  
  
“Oh? you don´t have it?”  
  
Mark shook his head.  
  
“Come with me after class, I'm sure I left it in the teachers lounge, then.”  
  
When the bell rang and the classes of the day ended but Mark was supposed to follow his teacher, he made sure to kick Jackson - hard - in the shin.

  
  
-

  
  
The hallways felt like an eternity and a half; stares from students wondering why he was walking with a teacher on a Friday after school - most probably assuming he did something bad to get it.  
  
Sadly, it was just to get a confirmation of his terrible exam results.  
  
He stared at the teachers back all the way through - realized he was the only teacher wearing leather and the only teacher with dyed hair; school only started two weeks ago, you couldn´t blame him.  
  
“Mark Yien Tuan, Taiwan.” The teacher said, nudging him to sit down on the couch in the tiny lounge reserved for the humanities teachers. “You and Jackson are pretty famous with the teachers, you know?  
  
Mark did not know. Jaebum didn´t bother to tell him why.  
  
He picked up a box and sat down in front of Mark, looking through it thoroughly - Mark noticed even smaller things, like the rings on his fingers and his eyebags, the pack of cigarettes on the table and a copy of _“The Catchers in the Rye”_ right next to it.  
  
That excited Mark, enough for him to talk without thinking about it.  
  
“I'm reading that book!” He said.  
  
Jaebum lifted his head to look at him.  
  
“You like it?”  
  
Mark nodded, suddenly shy again from his sudden outburst. “Yeah...it's good so far.”  
  
“I've read it many times - I´m sure you´ll come back to it too, when you grow up; if you grow up and don´t stick to just growing older, that is.”  
  
Mark didn't get it, but his teacher finally found his exam in the bottom of his box, and he feared that this was the first and last time they were going to talk like this before he was going to call his parents for his horrendous results - he was ready to stand up and leave.  
  
“Your exam is... outstanding.”  
  
Mark frowned, plopped back on the couch.  
  
“I mean, you clearly didn't study and you didn't write a thing of what I ask, but you curved your way around it that I feel like the exam questions did you dirty.”  
  
“So, did I fail?”  
  
“Of course you failed.” Jaebum said, standing up and sitting down next to Mark instead. “I have to fail you. But it´s the best exam I´ve ever seen in my two years of teaching.”  
  
Mark was somewhere between flattered and devastated. Jaebum noticed.  
  
“Do you write?” He asked.  
  
“I have to.” Mark said, looking at his own hands. “For my anxiety.”  
  
Jaebum nodded. “I see, you have a nice flow of words; all the other students stick to memorizing it and throwing it in the bin right after - you don´t give a shit, but you think about it.”  
  
Surprised by the way his teacher just swore so casually, he laughed.  
  
“You swore in your exam, we're fair.”  
  
“I did?”  
  
He pointed at a certain paragraph which asked about the theory of love, to which Mark brilliantly summed it up in a final phrase that read “in the end, romance and love are two entirely different things, the first used in bullshit novels that feed our unrealistic expectations of other flawed human beings like ourselves; love is a mixture of lust and mutual understatement.”  
  
He cringed.  
  
“I mean, you weren´t that far off.” Jaebum smiled at him and oh, Mark was hoping his blushing came from the embarrassment more than anything else. “But you know I have to fail you, right? However, I can come up with a little deal if you´re willing to work for it - clearly memorizing isn't your thing.”  
  
Mark perked up; words like senior year and college pestering his seventeen year old good conscious.  
  
Jaebum smiled again.  
  
“Option a, you study the theory and somewhat relate it to what you say in the exam or, option b.” He stood up, Mark followed his movements with his eyes, hands still in his hair. “I give you private lessons, higher level lessons, and you will discuss it and write an essay, in exchange you won´t have to do exams or even come to class. Y´know, kind of like a sportsman being excused off of P.E.”  
  
No more boring textbook philosophy lessons, less hours in that horrible, horrible cold classroom - Mark couldn´t believe it, wondered if there was some ulterior motive, he wouldn´t have minded if there was.  
  
At this point Jaebum could´ve been taking advantage of him right in his face and he would´ve accepted it all.  
  
Before really thinking it through, Mark asked him when and where.  
  
“Here, three days a week - Tuesday, Thursday and Friday; Deal?”  
  
Deal.  
  
Mark didn´t miss the way Jaebum looked at him from tip to toe; eating him up with his eyes - kind of like the first time they locked eyes in class; it sent vibrations he didn´t know he could feel through his body - excited, dirty, taboo.  
  
It was a strange feeling.  
  
He was sure his teacher could feel it too.


	2. Theory Two.

_"I can only teach you adult things now, little boy."_

-

  
“I hope you know that I hate you so much.”  
  
Mark wasn't listening - he was still very much intoxicated by his own thoughts of their philosophy teacher, Im Jaebum, young and mysterious with an undeniable allure that set him apart from the rest of the tired teachers in the school - he wondered whether or not his hair colour was natural and sitting in his chair, biting his blue wasted pen and concentrating on a corner of the table, he couldn’t resist his imagination or the reactions of his body thinking about him.  
  
Im Jaebum's complexion, Im Jaebum in glasses, I'm Jaebum in black, Im Jaebum angry, I'm Jaebum angry at him, Im Jaebum's hands, Im Jaebum's hands on him.  
  
“I'm gonna report his ass to the police, this is disgusting.”  
  
“You aren't gonna report nobodies ass to the police,” Mark said, taking his pen out of his mouth. “Because he's just twenty-five.”  
  
“Yeah, and _you're_ underaged.”  
  
Mark didn´t get or understand this sudden concern. Maybe Jackson was just jealous, he thought. Wasn't it him who was teasing Mark about their teacher in the first place?  
  
“Oh come on, you lost your virginity to a nineteen year old when you were fifteen. Your first kiss was with a twenty-six year old. Just a few week ago you fucked someones married wife who was twenty-nine. Don´t you out of all people come at me with this bullshit.”  
  
Jackson scoffed. “Whatever man. You probably didn't even write that good, he probably just said that to get in your pants.”  
  
Silence. Mark stopped writing on his paper, not looking at his friend.  
  
It was only then when Jackson realized what he said, and he was already coughing up apologies and _shit-I-didn't-mean-that's_ before Mark told him to get out.

  
  
-

  
“Hungry?” Jaebum asked, already sitting on the couch with a bunch of textbooks sprawled on the table in front of him.  
  
Mark shook his head. He was hungry, didn't want to impose.  
  
Jaebum didn't believe him, but, as per usual, didn't continue talking if Mark wasn't going to answer him.  
  
“Your friend kept staring at me today - I think it was the first time he didn´t fall asleep after the first five minutes; do you drink coffee?”  
  
Mark nodded, so he put to cups of coffee on the table; milk and sugar in one, black in his own. Mark didn´t drink coffee, but this time he made an exception. He felt a bit more adult and on Jaebums level by doing it.  
  
“He´s...he's weird.” Mark admitted. “We've had a small fight.”  
  
Jaebum hummed, and sat down on the brown couch again.  
  
“In Greece they distinguished three kinds of love,” he said. “ _Philia_ is for friendship and it comes from mutual concern and curiosity - do you know what separates it from romantic love?”  
  
Mark had an idea. “Physical attraction?”  
  
"Physical attraction,” Jaebum nodded, sipping his coffee. “Sex, whatever you want to call it - but then where do asexuals fit in this equation?”  
  
Mark thought about it, barely surprised his teacher was educated enough to acknowledge that. “Isn´t that where science and stuff comes in?”  
  
“Ahh,” Jaebum agreed. “Philosophy can't answer everything, then.”  
  
“I've read that you wish them good for their sake and want them next to you for your own, right?”  
  
His teacher hummed again. “Right - I personally think relationships are just one big gray area, anyway.”  
  
“Married?” Mark dared to ask, curiously flipping through the different books Jaebum put on the table, hoping he didn´t seem nervous because he swore he wasn´t.  
  
He didn't notice the amused look on his teachers face. Thank God he didn't, because he might have died on the spot.  
  
“I'm not.” He said.  
  
Mark loved the contrasting feeling of warmth inside and wild cold outside of the room; he felt the unmistakable difference that couldn't fool him. It rained outside. It stayed dry inside. Good. This was going good.  
  
“Surprising,” Mark replied. “I'm sure plenty of women find you charming, teacher.”  
  
“Maybe I don't find those women charming, then.”  
  
Mark raised his eyebrow, mouth open like he was going to say something - Jaebum could read him like a book.  
  
“No, I'm not gay,” He said. “I'm just attracted to what I'm attracted to.”  
  
“Jackson is the same,” Mark wasn´t sure if discussing his friends sexuality with his teacher was the ethical thing to do, he did so anyway. “But he has only had things with women up till now. All older, by the way.”  
  
Jaebum looked amused again, as if the entire concept of Jacksons existence was a hilarious enigma to him or like a silly character from a cartoon.  
  
“I dated a much older woman, once, in college.”  
  
Oh, Mark was interested.  
  
“I was living on friends couches and forced to listen to their drunk one-night-stands, my breakfast consisted of yesterdays take-out food and vodka, I was stressed and lost in life - then I met her.” He sighed, as if it physically hurt his head to remember it. “And she offered me a more stable life. I moved in, desperate, and honestly she was a very gorgeous woman for her thirty five years. I could concentrate on my studies again, and for the while I was with her I felt my worries disappear.”  
  
Sounded familiar. Mark thought. Crossing his legs.  
  
“Your sugar mommy?”  
  
“Nah. My previous partners all slept on beer stained beds with five other roommates - she liked to take care of people and our bodies were compatible.”  
  
“I'm sure beer stains weren´t the only kind of stains on the sheets, teacher.”  
  
Jaebum stood up and pushed with his finger on Mark´s forehead.  
  
“Don't be getting comfortable yet, little boy, Aristotle´s theory of younger men dating older men and why - research it. I´ll give you an hour and then we´ll talk about it.”  
  
Mark pouted.  
  
_Little boy._  
  
He was sure he was a twisted pervert for liking it.

  
  
-

  
  
On Wednesday Mark got another anxiety attack - consequence of his fight with Jackson, he felt small and completely self-conscious walking the school hallways by himself; people walking in completely different directions and all the voices colliding in one big mass that felt physical and forceful and just overwhelmed all of his senses.  
  
People were moving too much, talking too much.  
  
They were too much.  
  
He didn't make it to the island of the bathroom on time, and before he could barely even reach a wall he fell down, smacked into some lockers and it was only thanks to Jinyoung that he didn´t fall face-first into the floor.  
  
When he woke up, Jackson was holding his hand in the hospital, and Jinyoung was talking to a nurse.

  
  
-

  
  
“Do you take medication?” Jaebum asked on Friday after not coming to school on Thursday.  
  
Mark hated this. He never liked to talk about this part of himself, and honestly, Jackson was the only person he had truly opened up to about it.  
  
“Pills,” He admitted, because damn it, under Jaebums piercing watch he simply couldn't lie. “That is all.”  
  
“Has the school been notified?”  
  
“I'd rather not. They'll think it's all in my head.”  
  
“You collapsed in the hallway, Mark, that wasn't in your head - want to talk about it?”  
  
Mark wasn't so sure if he did, but between the coffee and the embarrassment, he nodded anyway. Even if he just told him half the story out of fear of making him bored of him.  
  
“It started in sixth grade after my parents separated - I felt nauseous and these kids were pushing me around, it wasn't until three years later when I had my first real breakdown though, I was with Jackson,” He continued. “And he encouraged me to talk about it. When I talked to my mom across the country about it she just told me to go see a doctor.”  
  
He took a sip of his coffee.  
  
“Jackson was pissed. I did seek help though - depression and anxiety walk hand to hand, though the depressive spurts have become less frequent nowadays. And I used to be not able to talk to anybody. Just Jackson and Jinyoung and my father.”  
  
“Your mother?”  
  
“She doesn't care. She has another family now.”  
  
Jaebum nodded, and where most others would be condescending, Jaebum made him more comfortable than he was comfortable with.  
  
“I think it's amazing that you can talk about it.”  
  
He meant it. Mark knew he did.  
  
“I had about twenty more anxiety attacks when you asked me, though.” He tried to joke, but then asked curiously, very curiously. “Ever had something like this?”  
  
“My bestfriend.” Jaebum said, and Mark expected him to tell him a story of victory and happiness. He didn´t. “He ended his battle last year. No one even knew he was depressed.”  
  
And so, irresponsibly maybe, the assignment was to talk about philosophies in favour and against suicide.  
  
He concluded that taking ones life is the most basic right of them all, even if it hurts.

  
  
-

  
  
The next time he saw Jaebum, it was not in the classroom or on school grounds, but in a Rock n' Roll bar in the heart of their city; loud and bustling, everyone wearing leather and chokers and different band tees, drinking beer like it was water and inhaling nicotine like they were made to do it.  
  
Jackson apologized, cried his eyes out for doing that to him right after they left school.  
  
Naturally, Mark forgave him without a second thought, but still made him buy him food to make up for it, and so they even convinced Jinyoung to come along with them that Saturday night.  
  
So Mark was comfortably intoxicated on something like rum and coke and beer and fuck knows what, - everyone was a little prettier now, and he couldn't help but think about his teachers theory of beauty while deciding which member of the group performing he most wanted to fuck that night.  
  
The teacher was on his mind a lot, lately, but at that moment, making eye contact with a blonde boy on the bass looking sweaty and passionate and extremely attractive, he wasn't.  
  
With the buzz of the rum and coke, Jackson and Jinyoung had their arms around him and ordering more and more shots to take - so much he became the person he wanted to be more like but regret being the next morning, and he was laughing and talking and sharing memories.  
  
That's when he saw him, sitting on a barstool - he stared at him for a while, looked at his hands holding the pint glass and before he could even think about standing up to greet him, Jaebum laughed so hard he threw his head back and exposed the man sitting next to him, starry eyed and smacked in love.  
  
Suddenly Mark got shot down back to reality, and his teethy laugher got replaced for a bite of his lips.  
  
His teacher looked so good and perfect in the painting of the rock bar, dissolved in smoke and colours thrown in the shape of bottles.  
  
“I saw you staring at me, pretty boy.”  
  
It was the bassist.  
  
Temporarily thrown off, Mark saw Jinyoung and Jackson look excited right behind the shoulders of the blonde boy, pretending to kiss.  
  
So that night, before the clock could tick five A.M and they left, he made out with a stranger called Yugyeom who kissed very good, tasted really nice, grabbed his ass tight just like he liked it and he didn´t know his teacher saw and observed and absolutely broke down every single second of it.  
  
All he knew was that he tapped his shoulder when they were outside, Yugyeom still stuck on his lips and his hands on his hips.  
  
“Aren't you guys a little too young to be here?”  
  
“I'm a big boy, teacher.”  
  
He pretended not to notice, but he could definitely see the hickeys on his teachers neck when he raised his head and looked at him almost like he pitied the younger.

  
  
-

  
  
The air was a bit tense that upcoming Tuesday - Jaebum was grading papers and if his sour expression was anything to go by, he really, really didn't like to do it.  
  
“I'm sorry, Mark.” He said. “I don't have time today.”  
  
And Mark didn't have patience.  
  
“I can help you if you want.” He offered.  
  
Jaebum scoffed. “Big boy Mark, wouldn't you rather go home?”  
  
Mark wanted to die.

"I'm so sorry, teacher, I really am.”  
  
“Nothing to be sorry about.” He licked his fingers and passed the page. “Just irresponsible. I was even more irresponsible at your age, though, I get it.”  
  
Mark sighed. “Teach me something. I'll feel bad if I leave just like that.”  
  
Now it was Jaebums turn to sigh. “The only thing I can teach you are adult things now, right? since you're such a grown-up and all.”  
  
“Aristotle didn't care about age.” Mark said, falling on the couch. He didn't know where this confidence came from, not really. His ears perked when he thought on what his teacher actually said. “Adult things?”  
  
“It was a joke. Here, take this paper and read it over at your house. I have a long night ahead, as I'm sure you know big boys do.”  
  
Defeated, insulted, and just a little amused, Mark stood up and walked out of the teachers lounge.

Until he looked at the content of the paper - pretty normal stuff until the third page, in the corner, written with cursive letters of blue and a dot that was almost laughing in his face.

_"You're still a little boy in my classroom."_

That same night, Mark thought about his teacher in the shower, and then again while trying to fall asleep to the sound of his sister making out with her boyfriend in the next room, sounds of skin on skin and bedsheets being rustled around in a perfect melody only they could appreciate.


	3. Theory Three.

_"He didn't have to pronounce the words he was feeling, because teacher Jaebum could read all of his letters, anyway."_

_-_

 

  
“I heard you two last night.” Mark said when he walked into the kitchen the next morning.  
  
Jessica, his sister just two years older than him, gave her brother a long, pained and _hard_ look.  
  
“So?” She said.  
  
“ _So,_ ” Mark continued. “So stop it. Or do it somewhere where I can't hear you.”  
  
“Ew. You're so gross. Did you hear us? Disgusting.”  
  
“It’s not like you left me with a choice _,_ ” Mark snorted, leaning over the table to steal her bread with chocolate and butter and god-knows-what, taking a big bite out of it. “You heterosexuals have _no_ consideration for us normal people.”  
  
“Dad!” Jessica yelled. “Mark is acting weird again!”  
  
Then his father walked in, straightening his tie and taking what was originally Jessicas cup of coffee. “When isn't he?”

Then he took a sip, and upon the realization that there was sugar in it - forgetting his daugther only drinks coffee with it or else it tastes like a corpse - he spat it out in the sink and sighed as if he knew that he was up for a very long, very hard day, starting out with coffee too sweet, too little sun out and the birds that normally made for pleasant background music this time barely chirping, replaced by car honks and truck beeps.  
  
“This is all because of Jackson.” Jessica said and snapped Marks phone away from the table when it started buzzing, opening it because her brother was dumb and predictable and his password was _"0001_ ". “And who is Yugyeom?”  
  
“Who is who?” He leaned over, trying to wrestle his phone out of his sister uncaffinated morning grip. “You can miss me with the twenty boyfriends _you_ have.”  
  
“Yugyeom.” Jessica deadpanned, and with the six seconds of stupefying confusion Mark fell in, she kicked his chair so Mark fell on the ground when he sat down.  
  
“Whatever, as long as you're not dating Jackson I'm fine with it, loser.”  
  
Before their father could get over his morning depression of sugar and coffee and interrupt their banter - which was always more in good spirit othan it was in bad judgment - Jessica already threw Marks phone in the air for him to catch it and running out of the house, while Mark chased after her all the way to the bus stop, where Mark would continue walking and Jessica would take the 201 ride to her university.  
  
“Love you, little brother.”  
  
“I hope your bus doesn't crash, Jessica.”

  
  
-

  
  
It was only when Jackson pointed it out when Mark noticed that he was wearing his sleeveless shirt the other way around - in retrospect, it was also just then when he realized that he forgot half of his books at home and that it was cold enough for his balls to freeze dead, in Jacksons humbling words, from the wheezing wind that was playing hide and seek with the sun from that same morning, the sunshine hiding behind the clouds hoping they wouldn´t find him.  
  
Or that was the metaphor Mark came up with when Jackson gave him his black sweater, with stains on its sleeves and crumbs in his pockets, with Jacksons familiar scent that Mark loved so much and calmed him down when nothing else did.  
  
Jacksons sweater was just an extension of the boys warmth, and if he could live in it, Mark thinks he would have.  
  
Maths was boring, and history was boring _-er_ , the first half of the day was spent away from Jackson, so Mark amused himself by drawing nervous patterns in his notebook and, God forbid, actually listening to the teacher.  
  
The only thing he learned was that not one of them impressed him so much as Im Jaebum did.  
  
Upon this realization, Mark felt like the colours of the day got a little more gray, and before he could fall asleep or think too much, Jackson burst into his class in third period, stuffed his books in Marks bag, shoved something in his hand and with a pat of the shoulders they rushed out of the classroom.  
  
Mark was not sure why he was running, but Jackson told him to do it, so he did, anyway.  
  
By the time they reached the parking lot, avoiding all the cameras and teachers that were still in their cars, Mark and Jackson climbed up a brick wall like it was a systematic motion - which, after all these times of ditching class, it kind of was.  
  
Hidden by the orange trees and strategically placed next to another wall facing the parking lot, they had the pretty view of an abandoned house whose weeds grew too tall and of which its swimming pool was home to exactly thirty different kinds of diseases. Or it seemed that way.  
  
Finally sat down and using their bags as makeshift pillows, Mark asked what the occasion was.  
  
“I was gonna die in there, man.” He reasoned, and Mark agreed.  
  
“By the way, that guy from the bar won't stop texting me.” Mark said.  
  
“Oh, Yugyeom or something? the cutie bassist?”  
  
“That one.”  
  
Jackson hummed. “And, interested?”  
  
“I-” Mark realized he hasn't even thought about it. “-don't really know? I actually haven't answered him yet.”  
  
Jackson hummed again. “Well, one night stands are better off as just that - or one night make-outs, I guess.”  
  
“He's pretty hot.”  
  
“But not as hot as teacher Im, right?"  
  
Jackson said it with his eyes closed, lying down and his hands crossed on his stomach - it sounded so accusing and far away, Mark wondered if he was imagining it.  
  
“Uh, _anyway._ I should probably talk to him.”  
  
Jackson smiled. “You gave yourself away when you said you didn't text him back. You're not one for one time flings, Mark. If you threw yourself at that boy it's either because you liked him or because you were trying to prove something. Which is it?”

Mark felt just a little offended.  
  
“Is teacher Jaebum the only thing you can talk about nowadays or something?”  
  
“Oh _you'd_ know.” Jackson said. “But whatever, just tell blondie bassist that you're not interested before you hurt his feelings.”  
  
Mark hated to admit that Jackson often said the truth even if you didn't want to necessarily hear it in the first place.  
  
“No. You're right. If we were together that night it's because I saw something in him right? 'm not you after all.”  
  
“Hey now, I was alone that night. In case you didn't realize, Jinyoung and I were watching after your dumb drunk ass."  
  
“You were drunk too.” Mark whispered.  
  
“Why are you whispering?” For the first time in the conversation, Jackson opened his eyes to look at his bestfriend, who was lying down and wrapped his arm around Jackson.  
  
“Let's just stop, alright?”  
  
Jackson thought about it.  
  
“Sorry.”

Sorry. Mark could never be mad at Jackson for two long. He briefly wondered if he wasn't cold in nothing but a shirt, Mark selfishly stealing his warmth despite it being his own fault he wasn't getting it. He wanted to ask Jackson - who would've said no, anyway - but a third voice that felt so deliciously distant yet sweetly familiar interrupted his words.  
  
“Is Jinyoung the only responsible one out of you three?” Already ready to jump off the wall and run, Jaebum - philosophy teacher Jaebum - hung over the wall with a cigarette in his mouth and a smirk on his lips.  
  
Mark almost had the fright of his life, and quickly jumped out of his hugging position as if he was caught.

He was not sure what he was caught for.  
  
“T-teacher?”  
  
“According to school rules I should take you boys to the principle, huh?”  
  
Mortified, Mark needed but didn't _want_ to know how much of their conversation he overheard. Jackson patted his shoulder.  
  
“Teacher, you're not allowed to smoke on school grounds, either.”  
  
Jaebum shrugged. “If only you were this quick-witted in class.”  
  
Jackson cringed.  
  
“Did I interrupt something?”  
  
“Nothing at all...teacher.” Mark said, looking at the ground and promising himself his heart was beating faster because of the scare and that breathing became more difficult because of his anxiety.  
  
Jaebum looked at him again, looked _right through him_ again, so Mark bit his lip, and teacher Jaebum laughed a bit - seconds which felt like an eternity passed, and with a much heavier voice he spoke again.  
  
“Hey, little boy.” Jaebum said. Mark looked up immediately like he was trained to react to his words. “The mathematics teacher gave me an earful for taking students to the teachers lounge and basically told me to find another place. So meet me in front of it, okay?”  
  
Mark nodded. “Alright, teacher.”  
  
Jackson coughed. “Right, well, we should probably head back to class.”  
  
And so they did, but not before Jaebum winked at a flustered Mark and lightly hit Jackson on the head with the book he had in his hands.  
  
Jackson looked like he wanted to say something, probably about why he continously kept calling him _teacher_ , why he called him _little boy_ , probably about why he felt so tense, but Mark didn't let him.  
  
“Please don't.”  
  
So he didn't.

  
-

  
Mark told himself it was an innocent crush and nothing more than that, the teacher had his vibe and he was into it. Hair black like a fiction book night and a complexion so pretty it matched the whole entire galaxy. He was different from the rest. Different from the best, he was different to everyone else he had ever met.  
  
  
It was just attraction - and when Mark texted Yugyeom saying he had a good time the other night, Mark didn’t feel like he was lying to him, either. He had himself in check,  because his teacher was just a gorgeous distraction  that felt like a break in which time didn’t exist.  
  
  
If lust was the spell then love was the witch.  
  
  
It was a phrase Mark read in the sixth grade. He never thought about it too much, didn't want to linger on the words and letters that were laughing at him.  
So when Mark saw his teacher without his jacket, but with a loose black shirt on, black fitted jeans and boots instead, he told himself it was okay to imagine him talking dirty, bending Mark over the teachers desk and teaching him his lesson, or riding his thighs sat on the chair talking about why he was the little boy and why Jaebum was clearly the adult here, the classroom door closed but never locked, or between his legs under the desk.   
  
  
It was perfectly normal to think like that.  
  
  
"Mark? What are you doing here?" It was the English teacher.  
  
  
Mark gasped, quickly put his bag over his lap and then said, "Waiting."  
  
  
"You don't look very well." He probably didn’t.  
  
  
"I'm fine. Thank you."  
  
  
His English teacher just nodded, probably realizing she spent too much free time talking to a student when it was Thursday and school was out.

 

"Alright, have a good day."

  
  
"You too."  
  
  
"You're jumpy today, Mark."  
  
  
Another gasp, this time jumping in his seat when he felt Jaebums presence right behind him.  
  
  
Eyeing him strangely, teacher Jaebum nodded towards the hallway.  
  
  
"Do you want to have class outside, for a change?"  
  
  
Mark nodded, if just to pretend he was fine. Of course he was fine. This was perfectly normal, this was perfectly normal and his phone buzzed in his pocket and it was Yugyeom flirting back at him - he was still just a little turned on, and Mark was one hundred percent sure it was okay, because he was stressed and that always got him worked up. He should meet up with Yugyeom.  
  
  
With that decided, he walked in front of his teacher.  
  
  
Thankfully, he didn’t realize his teacher was laughing at him.

 

-

  
  
  
"I didn't think you meant _this_ place, teacher." Mark said when they climbed up the same place he and Jackson were at earlier.  
  
  
"I figured it was better then being under the maths teachers watch."  
  
  
Mark guessed he was right.  
  
“Did you read the assignment?”  
  
Mark nodded and took the philosophy book out of his bag, but in a flash of haste and carelessness, he slipped out and the cigarettes fell out from the motion - Mark didn't notice it yet, and teacher Jaebum didn´t pick it up.  
  
“Do you smoke?” He simply asked, and Mark wasn't sure if there was judgment in his voice or not.  
  
He was on a great strike of embarrassing himself in front of him, so far.  
  
“No.” He said. “That' from a friend.”  
  
Any other person wouldn´t have believed him, frowned at him or would have asked why he would carry around anyone elses pack of cigarettes knowing perfectly well that there were consequences if caught. Naturally though, his favourite teacher just hummed, and grabbed his own pack from his pocket.  
  
“It's Jinyoungs.” Mark said.  
  
Jaebum never asked though, and Mark felt like he was talking too much, moving too hastily, feeling too nervous, acting too child-like.  
  
“But he's on a honour roll so I hide it for him just in case.”  
  
Jaebum lit up his cigarette.  
  
“You shouldn't have said that, then.” He said. “What if I go tell the other teachers now, wouldn't your friend be in trouble?”  
  
He shouldn't have, he could have. Mark felt stupid and stupidly small next to his teacher. Before he could say anything else, his teacher spoke.  
  
“Have you done your assignment?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Good kid,” He smiled. “Which one is your favourite, then?”  
  
“Freud.”  
  
“Don’t get shy now. Why?”  
  
Because of you. Mark thought. Because I'm embarrassing myself too much, because I want to feel adult, because I feel so small.  
  
“Because... I like his theory about dreams...and about that other stuff.”  
  
That other stuff. “Does your libido decide for you, then?”  
  
It was an inappropriate question no matter how you looked at it, but Mark still looked up and it was the worst decision he had ever made in his entire life, because Jaebum was giving him that look again, that look that felt like he didn't have to pronounce any words because Jaebum could already read all of his letters - it wasn’t a cold stare, nor was it a hard one. It was a look Mark didn´t want to, _refused_ to think or overthink about.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“I said, Freud believed that our libido dictates everything and that pleasure is our ultimate goal, right? would you be an example?”  
  
Mark still couldn't find his words.  
  
“You're a little out of it today, aren’t you?”  
  
“I'm sorry.”  
  
“Don't disappoint me.”  
  
It send shivers down his spine and the word “intimidation” found a whole new definition in that moment. He wouldn't disappoint him. No, not his dear teacher.  
  
“It's okay to feel this way from time to time, but don't get used to it, boy.”  
  
“Alright.” Mark whispered, and Jaebum finished his cigarette.  
  
“What about you, teacher?” Mark dared to ask, looking at his teachers hands which were big and would probably look good holding someone down.  
  
“The what?” Jaebum asked. “Freuds theory?”  
  
Mark nodded.  
  
“Oh,” Oh. “I do.”  
  
“Do you act on your libido then?”  
  
Jaebum looked amused, for the third time that day, and showed his teeth with his grin.  
  
“I'd like to say I do, within the rules and all, since nowadays my libido might get me in trouble if I act on it too much.”  
  
Silence.  
  
Mark told himself that the chills came from the cold.  
  
“Want to take the classes to my apartment? It's going to rain soon.”  
  
Mark laughed, hard and obnoxious, at this. “What are you talking about, teacher?”  
  
“Are you uncomfortable with me?” Jaebum asked dead serious. “Because that would be a problem.”  
  
In the odd sexual moment of stares and silences and a clear line between superiority of authority hovering over Marks clear inferiority, it was the best kind of uncomfortable that he shouldn't have wanted more of. But he definitely did.  
  
“No teacher, I'm just feeling weird today,” He sighed. “Let's go.”  
  
He wasn't lying.

They didn't realize Mark left his philosophy papers on the floor.

It didn't really matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After little over 5k words, the set-up is finally done and yall best BELIEVE that we´re about to get real. How do you guys like how it´s going? I think the goal here is pretty obvious, and I swear, I´m trying my best to hype up the sexual tension. I hope it´s doing alright.  
> Yugyeom will definitely appear again.


	4. Theory Four.

_"The realization of his teacher not having total and perfect control over everything in his life made Mark feel strangely vulnerable, unsafe and exposed."_

_-_

Mark did not know what he wanted teacher Jaebums apartment to look like.

Quite frankly, he never really sat down to think about it, and Mark was genuinely shocked when he realized that he too was also a living breathing person that wasn’t just a gorgeous figment of his imagination in the confinement of the gates of the school, there just for Mark and Mark alone, appearing like an enigma of wisdom.

  
So when teacher struggled with opening the door, a cat bumped his head against his legs and when he saw that the dishes in the kitchen were anything but clean like he expected them to be, Mark didn´t know if he felt disappointed or amused or thrown back into reality - all he did know was that he was more attentive of the smaller details than he normally would be, even when he barely felt it when he bumped his knee against the chair.

  
The television was normal-sized, there were a lot of colourful books in the shelves around it going from comic books to novels to dictionaries, and Mark noticed Stephen King, Haruki Murakami and Khaled Hosseini, his cat was called Nora and she had her own basket next to the leather couch which was not too much of anything - comfortable or uncomfortable - and his kitchen was a hot mess of dirty dishes and bags of sugar, and he even had a few plants and pots of spices on the table.

  
He also noticed another type of plant, and teacher caught him staring at it.

  
“Do you know what that is?”

  
Mark felt like he was being made fun of. He was younger than him but he was definitely not a kid. Moreover, they lived in the East Coast where marijuana was the norm and being high second nature.

  
“No way, teacher,” He rolled his eyes. “You could lose your job if I snitched.”

  
Jaebum simply hummed. "You're always so much more confident when we're alone." He said, and sat down on the wooden chair in front of the wooden table, putting his glasses on and taking his papers out of his bag not once asking Mark to sit down in front of him, but he sat in front of him anyway.

  
He was also painfully aware of his schoolbag digging in his shoulders, and he, really, really wanted it gone for equality's sake - so he kept on talking about the things he knew about instead.

  
“Do you know how to roll it?”

  
Teacher scoffed. “Duh.”

  
It was a strangely juvenile response, so Mark continued to play on his luck and leaned in a bit.

  
“Now I know why you're so chill all the time - I’m sure I can do it better than you, though.”

  
“Why don't you show me then?” Jaebum said. Putting his papers finally down and crossing his arms over his chest.

  
The silence fell over the room like it was a passing day of the sunlight and Mark was at loss of words - he didn´t know what to answer to that, and while Jaebum never did anything to make him feel inferior, this was definitely the first time Mark felt like he was given a chance to be on the same level as him.

  
“I mean, I could show you.”

Teacher nodded for him to go on.

“Well, if you want.” Mark continued.

“Not right now, but show me another time, maybe.”

The mere suggestion of another time was enough to make Mark blush and conveniently forget that this was totally not normal and that he just sort of promised his teacher to smoke marijuana - bewildered and wanting to change subject with all his nervous heart, Mark held on to what was supposed to be his determination and rested his chin on his palm.

“You could get expelled for this, teacher.”

“So could you.”

That's why he suggested and did it, Mark realized, to save himself from expulsion knowing that Mark would get in just as much trouble doing so, but he didn´t press any further, because once again he came to the screwed up conclusion that his teacher could be fucking him over right in front of him and he would´ve probably forgiven him in the middle of it, without every really being angry about it.

So it came to no surprise when Mark smiled, and smiled and and his teacher smiled back at him. There was a clear difference in their smiles, though, and Mark was describing it to himself while he watched him.

The beautiful visuals of his teacher - rings around his fingers and a perfectly imperfect complexion that was a little darker than his own. His smille was controlled and it never hid the chilling superiority of his authority, contrasting with Marks own boyish smile.

He noticed the buzz of the refrigerator which was covered with stickers that Mark couldn't see well enough to make out what they were, and he noticed that there was a lucky Chinese cat right next to the television. Mark noticed the scribbles on the table he was on, and he felt like it was very old. He also noticed that Jaebums hands were callused, and Mark noticed that he really, really wanted to touch them. He noticed the half-empty water bottle on the coffee table in front of the couch, and he noticed that the couch itself was full of cat hairs - he was surprised that even a man so disciplined like his dear teacher wouldn´t have control over exactly everything in his life, and for some reason that made Mark feel vulnerable, weak and unprotected.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You.” Mark answered sincerely, eyes fixed on the couch, frowning a bit.

“Good things?”

“I'm not sure.”

He wasn't. But teacher smiled again, and he stood up to ruffle Marks hair; lightening up the mood and waking him up from his sudden thoughts.

“Don't think too much, little boy, you might get a headache.”

“Hey!”

Laughing, he yawned and nudged and walked towards the kitchen. “Want some coffee?”

Mark still couldn't stand the taste of coffee.

“Sure, teacher.”

 

-

 

It was an hour later when the bell rang, in the middle of talking about books and trailing off on videogames and music, it rang a few times, and teacher looked at the clock as if he wasn´t expecting anyone to show up at this hour.

Mark stood up to open it, not really waiting for his teachers consent, and when he opened the door the person on the other side looked almost as surprised as Mark did.

Almost.

Mark wanted to die.

It was the pretty boy from the bar whose lovesick smile he wouldn't ever forget in his lifetime - they looked at each other for a good three seconds and apparently he didn´t know who the kid was, because he asked for Marks name.

Which is where Jaebum came in.

“Hey.” Jaebum said, and he felt like that was his cue to run to the living room, grab his back and hide. He only ran to the living room.

He spent a good twenty minutes by himself, and he thought his teacher was really irresponsible for not taking care of him like he was supposed to.

“I'm sorry Mark,” The older boy later said when he walked into the living room, all smiles and Mark couldn't find it in himself to hate it. “I heard your're one of Jaebums students - I'm Youngjae.”

Youngjae was short and cute and everything Mark was not - he smiled a lot and had no problems with talking to strangers, he was the guy who looked smitten at the bar, and this time he was the guy who could walk in and out of Jaebums apartment without looking a little intimidated or amazed by it.

“I'll make some dinner since he’s too lazy to do it himself, want to join?”

He didn't. But he nodded anyway, so slowly that he was surprised Youngjae noticed.

And so, without seeing his teachers face once during the entire thing, Mark learned that he was extremely talented at avoiding things he didn´t want to see and ignore the things he didn´t want to hear, but when he could clearly hear skin on skin and a kiss somewhere in the kitchen, Mark couldn´t help it.

"What do you want? rice or salad?”

  
“You.”

  
“Shh. Your student is in the living room!”

  
“He can take it.”

He couldn't. So when he heard more kisses and a soft moan, the bang of the kitchen door closing shut and the sound of the stove sizzling getting to a deafening high, Mark grabbed a page from his notebook and left as fast as he could.

“Sorry teacher and Youngjae, I just remembered I had something important to do. Thank you!”

He didn´t realize he left his books, his pens and notebook behind, too.

 

-

 

The next day was a national holiday, so Mark walked to Jacksons house without feeling bad and he already texted his father saying he might stay out tonight. His sister replied saying she better not find him drunk on a bench or locking lips with Jackson.

Knowing that the prospect of him ever dating Jackson was bad enough for her to compare it to being a raging alcoholic, Mark texted backsaying  she had nothing to worry about, much less when he had to break into Jacksons window just to find him blasting trippy trap music in his room, completely fucked out with smoke and Jinyoung on his bed counting in German.

“Oh, it's Markie.” Jinyoung said, smiling. “Negennenegetig, that's ninety-nine in German, too bad you didn't make it to one hundred.”

Jackson laughed as if it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. Maybe it was.

“You should text me instead of climbing up the fire thingy escalator, Markie.”

“I did text you, about a hundred times.”

“Ninety-nine!” Jinyoung shouted again, and again Jackson laughed.

“It smells like a fucking Bob Marley tribute band concert here, the fuck.”

Mark plopped down on the bed and forced the blunt out of Jinyoungs fingers.

“You're supposed to be a model student.”

“Did you know only ninety-nine people in our state have my exact scores? I'll make you rich one day, Markie!”

Jinyoung was normally quiet but quick-witted and had a different persona for about every situation, thankfully he was only real when he was with Jackson and Mark, Mark loved him a lot, but this time he was just pissed at everyone.

Inhale, exhale, Mark noticed Jackson stare at him.

“What are we doing tonight?” Mark asked.

“Who invited you though?” Jackson asked.

“Don't be mean to Mark, number ninety-nine on the maths test results in our grade!”

Jinyoung thought about what he said, and added. “Hey, weren't you with the philosophy teacher?”

Mark groaned. “What would you two do by yourselves? unless you're gonna have hot sex on this bed all night long, nobody is going to keep up with your dumb and dumber asses.”

Jinyoung laughed really loud. “Ewww, I bet I wouldn't find his dick anyway.”

“Yeah, because you're high as fuck Jinyoung.”

“True.” Jinyoung agreed. “What stick do you have up your ass anyway Markie, did he not use enough lube?”

This was the second time in his life where Mark choked on smoke.

“No, do you guys remember the guy from the bar? he came over.”

“So you were gonna…?”

“No!” Mark shouted. “I was just saying, like friends do.”

Jackson laughed. “Tough love, love. I guess mamma Jinyoung and daddy Jackson will have to take you in for the night.”

“Daddy Jackson!” Jinyoung repeated. “Right, let's finish this one first.”

So he rolled another one, and Mark couldn´t be more grateful when they didn´t press the matter.

“I think we should call Yugyeom and his group to hang out tonight.” Jackson suggested.

Between the lyrics and the smoke, Mark nodded.

“Sure.”

 

-

 

Mark didn't really like to go out, not really, but what was almost impossible for him back then was almost fun right now. He still didn't make it a point to go out every week religiously, and he knew his two friends weren´t the type either. So when they did go out it was almost a rule to do it together, come together and leave together, no matter what.

Mark didn't expect to break that rule anytime soon.

"Oh I love this track!" Mark said, not a word out of his mouth leaving with consent.

Yugyeom grinned, winked to some friend of his when he put his arm around the other.

He knew what being high felt like. This was nothing new. Not at all.

"I have the whole _How to Pimp the Butterfly_ album from when he came to L.A, it´s really amazing."

"Oh my god, really? Is it signed?"

"Nah, I was too starstruck at the moment to care."

"That's amazing."

Yugyeom nodded. "I have a whole bunch of albums, want to see?"

Mark looked at Yugyeom, he was a good looking guy who was having it bad for Mark - Jackson said it was because Mark doesn't ever seem like he really cares, but this time he just really didn´t. If Mark had to fall for anyone, he thought, Yugyeom wouldn´t be a bad choice.

Not a bad choice at all. He was his age, and he was just as immature and horny and totally average boyfriend material. They could go on lame pizza dates and fuck in public places just because they don´t have their own apartment.

No apartment with cat hairs on the couch, and no apartment with dirty dishes, no apartment with a table with a marijuana plant, and no apartment with a buzzing refrigerator.

If Mark had to fall for anyone, anyone ever, he thought that he would chose either Jackson, Jinyoung or Yugyeom.

Which is why he gave him a hazy, high and toxic "yes" between the dark lights of the club playing slow trap music and the four walls full of grafitti.

 

-

 

After barely freshing up and Mark putting some of Jacksons better clothes on - barely between laughs - they showed up at the underground dance club Yugyeom texted him.

They were part of a rock band, but Yugyeom was happy to tell him they loved hip-hop just as much.

With Jackson talking to some girls and Jinyoung still high out of his mind still smoking on shisha, Yugyeom ended on his lips again, and Mark promised it was him who let himself be dragged up to a room that definitely required a key.

He vaguely remembers Yugyeom telling him BamBam lives right on top of the club, and he wonders if he actually said it or if it was his imagination that told him that he just wanted to show him some albums Mark talked about.

He definitely recalls it being him who pushed Yugyeom on the bed, and he couldn´t make out if his lips tasted like mint or cherry.

“Mark, I think you're a little too high for this.”

If he was genuinely concerned, he sure didn´t show it, because with a few more tugs on his shirt and a weak moan between their kisses, Yugyeom shut up and let his belt fall on the ground.

"Fuck, I've wanted this since the last time." Yugyeom moaned out, hand in Marks soft hair and his knees hitting the floor, all while Yugyeom sat on the bed.

"You have cockslut written all over yourself, y'know that?" He said, holding Marks chin for a few seconds.

Mark did not know that. He was sure Jackson told him once or twice, though. All in all the only thing he could remember was that, ironically, he could perfectly recall his teachers room, but couldn´t name a thing out of the room he gave Yugyeom a blowjob in.

In the end Yugyeom made nice sounds and he wasn´t too rough.

Mark referred to it as “just another weekend” and he was not awake long enough to hear Yugyeoms response to that. The next time he opened his eyes, it was in the middle of the night just an hour later, and Mark woke up to Yugyeom giving him tea in just his boxer shorts and a white shirt with stains.

"I like coffee." Mark said.

"I like you." Yugyeom answered.

-

Making someone fall for you isn't hard when they're young and you've sucked their dick.

This is what Mark learned over the weekend, that same night when Jackson and a little-less-stoned Jinyoung barged into the room where Yugyeom was feeding Mark rice, and Mark let the tea stand cold because at the time, he preferred coffee.

"Jesus Christ, Mark, we were looking all over for you." Jackson said.

Yugyeom gave them a boyish smile, and Jinyoung looked offended.

"Why is he so strung out?" He asked.

There was no answer.

"Dude, why is he here?" Jackson followed up.

Their voices getting louder and Yugyeoms passive personality doing nothing to throw water over the heat, Mark answered for him.

"Nothing, I just felt bad."

Which is how Jackson and Jinyoung dragged him out, making him promise to never ever do that again, and Mark was sure Jackson told Yugyeom to back off. In any case, he definitely didn´t back off, because he continued texting the other, and Mark, for some reason, texted him back.

He had Yugyeom completely wrapped around his finger, and it was the most boring thing Mark had ever experienced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Riiight I´m not too happy with this one,and it´s definitely a little different from the rest, but I really had no other way to get this all out of the way without dragging it out for a few more chapters. Anyways, thank you guys so much for all the lovely comments, thank you<3  
> What do you think will happen? are you feeling Youngjae and Yugyeom? That counting in German thing was totally taken out of real life, by the way.


	5. Theory Five.

_"He felt like the entire world was collectively making fun of him - of the little boy in the backseat, with the little crush on his philosophy teacher."_

_-_

  
It was a colour palette of grays and browns and blacks when Mark first noticed his teacher - there was barely enough oxygen in the room, and the canvas of his life was completely drenched, fucked out and wet in the rain.  

The colours were gray like the morning sky, clouds ducking low. The colours were brown, like the old chairs and tables and even older books in the classroom, some older and others newer with different shades blending into one. The colours were black, like Im Jaebum, like his hair his eyes and the jacket draped around his shoulders, black like the jeans he wore and the shoes he chose for that day, black like the rings around his fingers and black like the studs in his ears.

Mark wasn´t a good artist - not a good artist at all - and he only passed his primary school art class because his teacher felt bad for failing him.  

If he _was_ a good artist, though, a good artist like Yugyeom, he would definitely paint the figment of his memories, and he´d make sure he´d put more care and attention in the lights, shades and colours, shapes and effort in two elements in the painting; one was the colour of the sky, which was gray and a little pink, and the other was the colour of his teachers beautiful complexion - a little rough on the edges.

Moreover, if he was asked to remove himself from his own canvas for his teacher, Mark thinks he would have.

“Drawing isn’t that difficult.” Yugyeom insisted between the sheets, on his bed while Mark was sitting on the floor.

“You just _draw._ They´re just a bunch of subjective lines, anyway.” He said matter-of-factly.

Mark sighed.

Everything was that simple, after all.

They’re just a bunch of lines, anyway.

 

-

 

“Mister Mark.” Mark did not know he was sleeping until he realized that Jaebum was the person who woke him from his slumber.

To his own surprise, there was no one else but the world globe in the classroom, apart from them.

He looked at the clock which was five minutes too early - courtesy of his class for reasons Mark thought was too stupid to think about - he realized that it was way. way past his maths hour, and that it was in fact breaktime, but no one bothered to wake him up. Maybe even worse so, that wasn’t the part which surprised him, because Jackson had to go get check-ups for his wrists and Jinyoung was in special classes for smart people or something and no one else in his class cared enough about him to wake him up; what surprise him was that it was his philosophy teacher who woke him up - standing in front of his desk, frowning like he was trying to figure somehting out.

It also surprised him because four days was enough to make Mark forget how absolutely stunning he was.

He blushed, he felt embarrassed and bashful and he _swears_ there wasn´t some saliva on his chin from his sleep.

God damnit.

“Mister Mark,” His teacher repeated. “You´re not supposed to be here right now.”

“I prefer little boy, I think.” Mark said absent-mindedly, still wondering if he had something on his face or not.

Jaebum scoffed. “Don’t say such irresponsible things, little boy, we might get in trouble.”  

It was things like that which drived Mark ab-so-lu-te-ly insane.

“You shouldn’t have left on Thursday.”  

Jaebum sat down in front of him, the sunlight seeping through the window adding colour to his face.

Mark wanted to ask if he missed him, just to be cocky and mischievous and because he felt like it was in his role to say that, but his teacher spoke again before he had the chance to stand on stage.

“We had class.”

No, really, Mark thought getting a concussion would hurt less.

“You seemed busy,” He said. “And I forgot I had plans, sorry.”

His teacher hummed, obviously not believing him.  

“What did such a big and responsible boy like you have to do, then?”

“ _Stuff_.”

“Jackson Wang and Park Jinyoung stuff?”

Finally Mark could look his teacher in his eyes, it was the worst decision he had ever made. “No, yes. Kim Yugyeom stuff.”

Jaebum hummed for what seemed the fifth time that day.

“Who’s that?”

“Teachers aren’t allowed to ask those things, teacher.”

It was only then when he noticed that Jaebum locked the door, and only then was he conscious of all the noise, voice and sounds coming from the patio outside, if he looked out of the window he could see a whole bunch of new paintings he had never seen before; the painting of a group of girls chatting and laughing and one was spitting out water, the painting of a group of boys chatting and laughing and one was doing the handstand while the rest of them made fun of him, the painting of two teachers flirting with each other - putting his arm around her shoulders and it was kind of blue because she didn´t seem interested, the painting of birds and couples and breadcrumbs and elderly people ushering younger people to carry their bags.

Still, the painting in front of him was the strangest of them all.

He could stare at it forever.

“Your boyfriend then?”

Mark never told his teacher that he was into guys.

Now it was his turn to hum, he felt the incessant need to deny it, blush and get nervous, but he thought for a second, and decided to have himself together.

“Something like that, teacher.”

There was no reaction.

No reaction at all.

Not a twitch on his mouth or a flick of his gaze, Jaebum was still concentrated on Mark though, and he felt betrayed because he felt like he was the one who let his emotions how more than his teacher did.

“Right. I’m assuming it isn’t the class Yugyeom, because while Winch said that opposites attract and all, I really can’t see you with a guy like him,” He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, then he closed it and opened it again. “Today at the parking lot, boy.”

“What do you mean, it’s Monday.”

“You ditched on Thursday to have a good time,” He said. “While you could’ve been having a good time with me and Nietzche instead.”

That shut him up. If it wasn’t for good it was for a few hours, at least.

“And tell your little admirer to pick you up after school, because you can’t make it to you ’i _ce-cream and fuck’_  date.”

Which is when he took Marks phone out of his own pocket, and threw it on the table without giving him any more words to think about, before Mark could react, Jaebum was already out of the classroom, and before being able to wonder how quickly he opened the door, he was already gone.

When he stood up to do something, anything, just to try and think enough to not think at all, he noticed a scribble on his table, a bunch of lines on wood.

It was a drawing of a sleeping Mark, saliva on his chin and a tiny Jackson shouting with a megaphone in his ears. Next to it, there was a message written.

_“Little boys should go to bed earlier.”_

Next to it was a crossed out other phrase. _“Instead of playing with other kids at night.”_

All Mark took out of it was arousal, shame and the hilarious fact of knowing that his teacher, his philosophy teacher, could draw as well as he did.  

 

-

 

Mark didn’t feel anything special for Yugyeom.

Matter of fact, Mark was sure Yugyeom didn´t feel anything special for him, either.

If he had to give it a name, he´d call it a fleeting, momentary, short-lived and one sided feeling of affection, product of the wrong moment, wrong time, wrong place and wrong mix drinks in his cup.

He’d call it repercussion of a fairytale. The side effect of theatrical love songs that always described emotions starting with a bang and ending with inner turmoil, pushing and pulling inbetween.

Mark really thought they should put warnings on movies from now on - though _“perpetual life-long disappointment”_ doesn’t make for a nice catch.

Still, his stomach might not have curled up and he might not have cared in what state Yugyeom found him in - dumb high, dumb drunk or saliva on his chin while sleeping class; but he didn´t dislike the guy.

So it hurt, anyway, anyhow, even if Mark wrote the book himself.

Yugyeom did actually pick Mark up from school, looking bored and cartoony standing with his foot against the wall - Jaebum, after a lesson of Nietzsche theory of God being dead and asking Mark if we should let our instincts guide us, walked with him to the gate.

When his teacher saw Yugyeom, Mark could tell he was amused.

When his teacher saw Yugyeom, Mark suddenly felt like a little kid.

“Alright, children, have fun.” He said.

“What are you gonna do, teacher?” Mark yelled after him.

“Grown-up things, boy.”  

And with a wink and a wave of hands, he was gone.

Yugyeom was staring holes into his every pore and Mark really had to take a picture, because he looked really dumb.

“Who’s that?”

Mark had said that he was, obviously, his teacher.

“Why’d he call us children, he doesn’t seem that much older.”  

Mark shrugged.

Yugyeom shrugged.

“Kiss me.”

So he did.

 

-

 

Mark liked to assign colours to moments.

This moment, with Yugyeom in an amusement park, candyfloss on legs bumping into them just to find out there were actual, living breathing children under them, and this moment where the sky was calling all the clouds together again for the night to fall, was pink.

It was pink because of the youth. It was pink because of the candyfloss. It was pink because of the colour of the sky. It was pink because of the shirt Yugyeom was wearing. It was pink because the painting was so tainted with rose colour, Mark could see that colour reflect on his own skin.

Mark liked to assign colours to moments.

But when he kissed Yugyeom and they held hands, it was transparent.

When Mark realized the weekend magic was fading out, it was fading into white.

When Yugyeom kept looking at the barista at the coffeshop, the colours changed palette completely.

Which is how their _moment_ ended - nothing emotional or exciting, nothing worth writing poems or lyrics over. The barista was called Lim and he was American Taiwanese and apparently Yugyeom recognized him from one of their gigs. They talked more than Yugyeom and Mark ever did, and Mark felt like utter garbage standing next to them.

“Mark, I’m sure you don’t care…but.”

It wasn’t that difficult for him to say it, not really, Mark could tell that he was putting up a front to make himself feel like the nicer person.

Mark wasn’t that important to him, after all.

“I know.” He barely choked out.  

“Sorry,” Yugyeom had the decency to smile at him. “Here’s the money for the coffee - I should go now.”

Mark nodded.

He looked at the coffee cup for a good few moments, he could count his breaths and the murmmuring from the coffeeshop was raising its volume to an unbearable high.

So he threw his second, full cup of coffee which Yugyeom paid for in the trash, and Mark felt just as shit as before. 

 

-

 

The palette shifted colours radically. Mark swore the sky was pink before they entered the coffeeshop, and right now it was an intimidating shade of gray with some orange glowing around the heavy clouds when he walked out alone - Yugyeom and the barista long lost in the crowd after his shift ended.

He left the amusement park and he spent twenty minutes finding the gate because he couldn´t lift his head out of shame.

He didn’t want to call Jackson because he felt like he was being a nuisance.

He didn’t want to go home because he’d just eat himself up in bed.

The worst part was that he he felt like he had no right to be this devastated - because he never liked Yugyeom. If he did his part, he was sure Yugyeom would still like him. It was the scene of the coffeeshop altogether that did it; Yugyeom and Lim talking like Mark has never done with anybody but Jackson and Jinyoung and his teacher, and the realization of how sad that was.

It was the bitter after taste of his first cup of coffee, coffee which Mark never really liked, but learned to love because of his teacher.

Lifting his head up, he immediately sat down realizing he was walking in the complete opposite direction of his house.

So he sat down and if he was lucky the wind could drag him somewhere pretty - but instead he was still sitting on a dirty sidewalk with chewing-gum stuck on the floor and trash that was full of Chinese food from the snackbar behind him.

There were empty bags of McDonalds, and suddenly Mark was hungry.

Tempted to actually dig something out of the garbage to eat - probably feeling at home since he could relate to the trash, anyway - a car honked right in front of him, and before deciding whether it was his father, his sister or the mafia coming for his organs, he realized it was raining.

He wasn’t sure for how long, but his socks were wet and his hair was dripping.

“Mark?”

It was Youngjae.

Not having the energy to even open his mouth, he didn´t say anything, worrying the kind man even more, even making him step out of his black car and squatting down to look at the younger.

“Mark, hey, are you okay?”

He waited. Then he sighed and got back in his car.

Mark briefly wondered if he was just going to let him rot away near the trash, but unfortunately he came back with an umbrella and put it over his head - his warm smile served as a heater, and Mark considered stopping feeling so sorry for himself, but he didn´t.

“Let’s get in the car.” Youngjae suggested, and only then did Mark nod and slowly stand up to get in the backseat.

The leather felt good and being in a closed, warm space made him feel collected.

“You´re drenched. There’s a sweater next to you - put it on if you want and take your vest off. I won´t watch, promise.”

“It’s fine.” Mark finally said. Touched by Youngjaes kindness.

He wondered if his teacher liked happy people.

Finally with his sweater on, Mark touched himself and patted the sleeves and with more energy than he had that entire day, he analized Youngjae. It was way too big to fit on his small body, even for someone who liked his sweaters oversized.

Mark heated up and he couldn’t even fool himself saying it was the warmth of the car.

“Oh, it’s Jaebums, by the way. He always leaves his stuff here.”

“Oh my God.” Mark wanted to die and revive again. It smelled like cherry and smoke.

“It’s fine.” Youngjae said. “He won’t mind - Want to tell me what´s on yours?”

Mark wasn´t sure if he did, but his teacher must have rubbed off on Youngjae, because he had the same, unsuspecting demand in his voice that almost forced him to talk.

“I’m sorry…I was being dramatic.” Mark said, embarrassed. “It´s just…let’s say I was sort of dating this guy…” He looked at the mirror, the other was still looking at him. “…I mean, this person. And I thought things might go well…and then he goes for another guy…I mean, person. And kind of leaves me behind just like that…”

“Mhmm.”

“And I shouldn’t feel bad, because I might sort of like another guy…person. Which is sort of why I started dating…sort of…this first guy, in the first place.”

He felt like he spoke too much.

Youngjae’s expression didn’t give anything away, and suddenly Mark felt like he wasn’t that childlishly kindhearted anymore.  

“Thank God, I thought your family kicked you out, or something. But it’s just boys, right?” He winked at him, and started the engine. “I don’t want to preach, but the second people start doing, pardon my expression, dumb and difficult shit like that for someone else, we´re way too lost.”

He nodded to himself. “So it doesn’t really matter what you tell yourself, because the ball has already started rolling - kid.”

Now Youngjae stuck his tongue out. “Ew, that was gross. I don’t know how Jaebum can say those things with a straight face. He’s so embarrassing.”

Mark thought Jaebum was the least embarrassing human on the planet.

“Uhm…may I ask how you two know each other?”

“Since university,” Youngjae answered. Then looked at Mark some more through the mirror. “But that isn’t what you want to ask, is it?”

Mark didn’t know what to say.

“Since you’ve spilled your beans, let me spill mine and call it rainy secrets, alright?”

Mark nodded.

“We’ve only started dating two months ago.”

Mark shouldn’t have been surprised or taken back by his words - the bite in his letters were probably all in his head, and although Youngjae looked almost bored and focused on the road, Mark felt like he was making fun of him.

Of the little boy in his back seat, with a little crush on his teacher.

The comfort his sweater - his teacher sweater - gave him was almost disgusting and completely out of place for the moment.

Mark couldn’t muster up a "that´s nice" or fake surprise, and honestly, he didn’t care enough to hide his expression.

Thankfully, the buzzing of Youngjaes phone saved him from doing any of that.  

"Hey - yeah, what, right now? sure I’ll get it. _Alright_. Yeah, some things happened on the road an - fine, _fine_. Don´t say that. Alright. Love you."

Youngjae hung up, sighed and threw his phone on the empty seat next to him.

"That was him. Uh, if you don’t mind can we pass the supermarket before I take you home? he kind of forgot the chicken in our chicken noodle soup and it´s almost nine p.m."

Mark nodded - deciding it’s better than to try and talk.

Youngjae smiled. "Everything will be alright, Mark."

Mark wondered how he could imagine Youngjae having any malice in him at all.

 

-

 

The supermarket neon lights seemed brighter than usual when Youngjae went in and got back out, a bag of groceries in his hand, quickly hopping to the car to avoid getting wet, even if the water was just barely ticking on the window anymore.

"My family isn’t home." Mark said. "I forgot my keys."

Youngjae didn’t say anything, instead, five minutes later, they were in front of his teachers apartment.  

"Are you hungry?"

He was.

They walked up the stairs and Mark did not know what he was doing or what he was to do with himself, his hair was wet and so were his shoes, the only bit of warmth came from a sweater that wasn´t his - his heart beat up with every step, and finally, the door opened and Youngjae nodded towards him as if he was a frail little doll that had to be taken care of.  

Maybe he was.

Jaebums surprise was natural and fitting for the moment, but the double-check he did on Mark was not; Mark felt it, and he thought Youngjae would have to be out of his mind of he didn’t - Jaebum looked at him and it was so much more primitive than how he usually did; in his baggy home clothes and messy hair, earrings still on and his breath giving away that he had been drinking that night.

Honestly, Mark wasn´t sure who exactly was the prey here.

"Youngjae...did you buy the seeds?"

"You’re not making me go out again, are you?" Youngjae sighed out, but not unsurprised. Kind of like they´ve done this a million times before.

Silence.

"Fine." Youngjae said. "Jae...have you been drinking without me? You´re hopeless. Give this kid some dry clothes and get him home. Don´t drink anymore."

"I will, I won’t. Thanks love."

Youngjae sighed again.

"Stay for dinner, Mark." 

And then he was gone, sighing some more all the way from the elevator.

By the time they could hear the door shut loudly, Mark looked up to his teacher, who was leaning against the doorframe and his collarbones were exposed.

Mark bit his lip.

"That’s mine." His teacher said. Mark noticed the lock necklace he was wearing. "I’ve had that sweater since I was in university."

"Oh." Mark touched it some more. "I´m sorry."

"No - you look good in it. It´s just funny seeing someone else in it. It has lived a lot of memories with me, y’know."

Mark wanted to know each and every one of those memories, but he was feeling too lightheaded on hot to ask - the hallway lights barely lit them up, and he could still, still hear the buzzing refrigerator outside of the flat itself. He was tempted to run away again, but he didn´t.

"I’ll give it back after I’ve washed it."

"No," His teacher said. "Keep it."

Mark loved how it sounded more like an order than it did like a suggestion - Jaebum was his voice of common sense and direction, and although Jackson would probably raise hell over thinking that, at the time, in his teachers apartment late at night by themselves, with his boyfriend out to the supermarket, and his teacher sitting down on the couch just a little tipsy in a t-shirt and a beer in his hand like Mark couldn´t ever do in his own house, he almost felt like an adult. He forgot Yugyeom, and he even forgot about Youngjae.

So Mark sat down next to his teacher in a completely breakable confidence that only his teacher could give him.

It was nothing he was proud of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mright kids, I feel like there might be some M rated stuff in the next chapter and I actually know where we´re going by now - with that said, I again feel like this chapter is really bad compared to the others...but I´d be eating myself up over it if I stare at it in the drafts for so long, so I just posted it. Hopefully it isn´t too bad. Thank you for all your lovely comments, I love you, thank you<3


	6. Theory Six.

_"Who’s your circumstance?"_

-

The walls weren’t purple but at that moment Mark felt like they should have been - if it was because of the mood in the hallway or the colour of the sweater he was wearing, if it was the less-than-tipsy haze his dear teacher had in his eyes, or if it was that exact stare which was drilling into what Mark felt like was his very core, soul and essence.

His core, his soul and his essence.

Worried his teacher might actually  see the literal breaths he takes - inhaling and exhaling and inhaling and exhaling - his mind went on autopilot, and the words started coming out in a way that was almost comfortable, almost easy to pronounce.

“Thank you, teacher.”

His teacher smiled at him, and closed the door once Mark was inside and busy admiring the night view of his apartment, which felt like a whole other island very far away from the rest of civilization - Mark briefly wondered if they were still in L.A, the white kitchen light was the only one that was shining brightly, the sound of the refrigerator buzzing and the dishes cleaned for what he felt like was the first time in their lives, courtesy of Youngjaes kindness.

Inside, outside of the kitchen, the only light came from a dimly lit desk lamp and a couple of scented candles on the coffee table in front of the television which Mark had noticed before - on the couch itself was his cat, Nora, and he thought that they looked alike.

“Don’t just stand around, Mark, it’s rude.”

Jaebum plopped on his couch, putting the cat on his lap and throwing his arm over it, leaning back and closing his eyes, sighing out loud, his adams apple bobbing when he swallowed on nothing in particular.

So Mark meekly walked over to the couch, not even startled when a rash surprise lightening lit up the sky for a few seconds, lightening up the entire room.

He wasn’t startled, because the picture of his teacher on the couch, so casual and free with a layer of shadows painted over it was so much more meaningful than any natural occurrence could ever wish to achieve.

His teacher opened his eyes, feeling Mark hovering over him.

So Mark got embarrassed, and quickly sat down, a little too fast and a little too close to his teacher, who still had his arm hung over the couch, and if Mark admitted to his gruesome bedtime fantasies, he´d say they were like boyfriends, and Mark was the submissive one.

He shook his head, caught his own thoughts before they could run away completely and forced himself back together. 

“I thought someone was on a date.” His teacher said, back to closing his eyes and leaning back on the couch again, Mark felt like he hear what he was thinking. It was scary.

“Yeah.” 

“Hmm.” Jaebum hummed. 

“He left me for another guy.” Mark said, wondering if he should lean back too and debating whether or not he should stop holding his own hands in case he seemed awkward - his teacher didn´t seem to care either way, but Mark did.

Jaebum didn’t ask, once again, and still Mark told him, anyway. 

If words were the magic spell of some, Mark thought, then silence is definitely his teachers.

“Teacher, he left me for another person.”

He didn’t answer, he didn’t answer. Mark looked at him, frowned at him almost desperately and tempted to shake his teacher up, ask him why he’s so cool all the time, ask him why he doesn´t ever ask when Mark doesn’t answer just like everyone else does. He wanted to ask him why he was so different from the rest. He wanted to tell him to be the adult he was and take responsibility for every single one of Marks mistakes. He wanted to tell him more about himself - every nook and every cranny, and, deep down, he wanted to have him all for himself, keep him as his private world, his dirty little secret.

But he didn’t. He didn’t ask any of that. 

And his teacher definitely wasn´t his.

Because right before Mark had _enough_ in a relationship that wasn’t supposed to have that word in the first place, his dear teacher was always there to give him some more hope in the shape of a lesson which felt like a scold, and a scold which felt like a worry.

“Did you like him that much?”

Mark was caught off guard.

He didn’t like Yugyeom at all. 

His teacher sighed. “Or are you just angry that he’s out of your park? are you feeling bad for yourself, is that it?”

Mark nodded. Realized his teacher still had his eyes closed, so he said, breathed out and sighed a _yes_.

“Then you’re the problem.” 

It dropped like a pin on a glass foor. Except that the pin was his teachers voice, and the glass floor was his own fragile selfishness.

Mark might be a bit selfish.

“I’m the problem, too.” His teacher continued, and opened his eyes and looked at his student from the corner of his eye - looked at his complexion, the bridge of his nose and the desperate look in his eyes. He didn´t know he was looking at him.

“I used to always be the problem, they didn’t like me enough or I didn’t like them at all. Why do you think couples eventually stay together?”

He didn’t answer immediately, so his teacher pushed his shoulder a bit.

“I don´t _know,_ teacher, we’re not in school right now.”

“How can you say that when you’re about to cry?” Then Mark looked back at him, caught off guard of his teachers eyes on him, “I’m asking this to you as a person, adult to adult.”

Adult to adult.

Suddenly, Mark realized how tired he was. How exhausted he was feeling. Both physically and mentally, his head hurt, his feet ached, he was tired. Tired of getting thrown into a whirlwind, tired of moving so much. He was tired, tired because of the days events and maybe he was even tired way before that. Mark always got tired easily. So he just settled with the moment, too tired to fight it anymore.

“I don´t know, teacher.”

“We get tired, so we just settle for the circumstance.”

We just settle with the circumstance.

Mark would’ve thought about it some more, but right now he couldn’t really think well enough to consider it.

“Is Youngjae your circumstance, then?”

“I’ll tell you when I know.”

That shut him up. 

“Listen...” He sat straight, Mark could smell the wine from how close they were sitting to each other, but he was too much of a little boy to recognize what exactly it was, thighs touching and feet unconsciously on top of each other. “Nothing you do in life is unecessary, little boy. Absolutely nothing.”

There it was, the comfort and the warmth. The dishonest amenity and the fake restfulness of his bouncy thoughts.

“You’re the smartest person I´ve ever met, teacher.”

His teacher smiled. 

“To answer your question, I think it’s the other way around, honestly.” He continued, looking away, taking another sip from his can. “I´m Youngjaes circumstance, that´s all.”

“Your circumstance.”

His voice dropped a bit, he sat back, leaned down on the arm which Jaebum had extended of the couch. He could feel his skin.

“My circumstance.” He sat closer. “What’s yours?”

“I’m not sure, but right now tired and a little hungry for smoke.”

“We did say that, didn’t we?”

Mark nodded.

Then they sat in silence, without either of them realizing the desk light melted and turned off, and if they did they didn´t do anything to fix it. So they sat in a quiet remote darkness while the drops of rain ticked and ticked and ticked on the window frame, in a rhytmn that made sense to them.

Mark could have fallen asleep. In his teachers sweater, on his teachers couch, with his teacher next to him. It felt right.

“You have really pretty lips.” His teacher said. “And hands, too.”

He stood up.

“Let’s go to the car, before Youngjae comes.”

“Teacher.” Mark said, opening his eyes. “He said you should wait. Plus you’ve drunken.”

“It’s fine. I promise.”

So Mark had no choice but to believe his teacher, a llttle tipsy and a little dumb.

If he promised him the world then Mark would sit patiently till he finds it.

 

-

 

Which is how they ended up in a supermarket parking lot, rain louder than ever completely drowning out the sound of his teachers phone buzzing. They sat there, Mark covered in a soft blanket his teacher wrapped him up in all the way to his chin, but was no under his armpits as he was busy spreading the weed over the paper.

“This smells good, teacher.”

“Doesn´t it?”

Minutes later Mark was finished, he stared at his creation and held it up in victory, showing it to the elder, who grinned at his excitement.

“Shut up and just lit it up, kid.”

“I wasn´t even talking, old man.”

Everything is so much easier when it´s dark out and you´re covered in layers of blankets, inhaling the smoke and almost immmediately feeling the buzz go from straight to your head - it was a twilight zone where it felt like you could make any kind and type of mistakes and wouldn´t be held accountable for it - his exhaustion washed away with the rain.

So Mark looked at his teacher, and his teacher looked out of the window, raindrops falling on it, the supermarket lights, which were red and green, flickering. 

It was almost ten p.m, and not a lot of people went out to buy things this time a day.

“Jackson lives around here.” Mark said. “Five minutes or so.”

“Does he?” 

“Yeah.”He put his arms under the blanket. “Can I have another one?”

His teacher nodded, putting a leg up on the couch, inhaling, exhaling, the smoke coming out thick, Mark could get high off that alone - but then his teacher put it between Marks lips.

So he inhaled, and immediately let the smoke out.

“You look really good.” His teacher said, and his phone buzzed again.

He ignored it.

“So do you, teacher.”

Minutes passed, and his teacher leaned in with the excuse of grabbing a bag of candy which was next to Mark, and Mark felt his heart thump like an army in the war, thumping, thumping, thumping, he barely had the time to perfectly analize every pore on his teacher face. He was so handsome, so handsome and handsome and smart, the smartest person Mark had ever met.

His teacher looked at him too, and what felt like an eternity was enough for the supermarket lights to flicker again, and Mark should have felt that that was warning number one, or warning number _fuck-knows-what._ Whichever it was, Mark didn´t have it in him to care.

Which is how it happened,

just like that,

a kiss that felt like a first and a last, like it was long-awaited and not expected at all,

so fast and quick and sudden that Mark only knew it was real because of the flush on his cheeks, his teacher looked unimpressed, if just a little confused.

“Teacher...”

“I´m your teacher.”

“Yes.”

“I´m your _teacher_.”

“You are, teacher.”

His teacher sat back so quickly Mark thought he might bump his head in the window, he looked confused and a little worried - it wasn´t a good look in his teacher, Mark decided, because he was supposed to be the adult who knew what to do, at all times, and decide for both of them. So he couldn´t live with himself if they left it at that, if that was the reality Mark was forced to meet, so he grabbed his blankets, then grabbed his teacher by the nape of his neck, he leaned over and kissed him so hard and good he wanted to make sure both of them knew it was real.

His teacher gasped for a second, and in the very next he was the only holding the blankets around Marks bodyframe, instead. 

He wasn´t sure for how long they kissed, how good it actually was, it felt more like they were trying to prove something more than anything else - his teacher tasted like wine, his skin felt soft, the rain left a musky scent in the car laced with marijuana.

Which is how their kiss started, and also how it ended.

Because the blunt was burning Jaebum, and he winced in pain. It only hurt Jaebum, of course, and not Mark. 

They inhaled, exhaled, this time not from a drug but from each other, his teacher looked at his student for a good while, and this time Mark wasn´t shy to stare straight back at him, blush on his cheeks, mouth a little parted, his chest almost hurting with the breaths he was taking.

“Little boy, you really don´t act your age.” His teacher eventually said, throwing the blunt out of the window, and starting the engine. 

Mark didn´t answer him. He should have probably not let him drive in the first place.

It was fine, though, because his teacher was the adult, and he would take care of all of his problems, anyway.

It was fine.

 

 

-

 

Mark got home about thirty minutes later in a car ride that was supposed to feel too long and too awkward and Mark knew that his teacher got lost a few times despite knowing where he lived. When his sister asked him where he was, his excuse was saying that he was with Jackson,who texted him a thousand times over asking him where he was, what the fuck happened with Yugyeom and why he wasn´t home.

His sister knew he was lying, but she didn´t press the matter any further.

She left it at a "You smell like weed and wine."

Mark didn´t care enough for anyone else at the moment, so he ignored his sister telling him to eat, ignored his bestfriend asking him where he was, and he ignored his father when he came how and told him he bought his favourite chocolate.

It was that easy, but while Mark slept in a sweater that wasn´t his, Jaebum was still forced to face Youngjae, who was barely waiting for him with an empty bottle of wine on the table and uneaten plates of food right next to it - Jaebum drank the first half, though, so he wasn´t completely guilty. 

Jaebum closed the door, took his shoes and his jacket off. His hair was a little wet from the rain, Youngjae didn´t say anything.

"I´m sorry." Jaebum said. "I brought Mark home and we got a little off-topic."

"I called you, you could have at least answered me, jackass."

Still not looking at him, Jaebum sat next to him, looked at him, then nuzzled into his neck and kissed his cheek.

"I´m sorry, it was off."

It wasn´t. Youngjae knew it wasn´t and Jaebum knew it was a terrible lie. But they both stayed quiet about it anyway, Jaebums hands running up his thighs, asking his boyfriend if he forgived him.

Youngjae wanted to protest, he promised he did, but when he looked at the other staring up at him with puppy eyes, he couldn´t muster up anything more than a sigh, grabbing his hand and taking it off his legs.

"Fine - don´t do that again, hear me?" He said, and Jaebum nodded. "Have you...Jaebum, have you been smoking?"

Now he slapped his hands away immediately, frowning and putting his legs up on the couch as if he was defending himself. 

"Jaebum, you didn´t do what I think you did, did you?" He continued. "Did you?" He demanded, louder this time.

Jaebum shook his head. 

"Of course not, I smoked alone just now. I was stressed, alright. You drunk."

" _You´re_ drunk, asshole. And you drove. What´s wrong with you?"

"I didn´t." Jaebum said. "I said, don´t make me say it again. It was right here, outside of the apartment."

"You really are the worst."

"You love me."

Youngjae thought about it.

"You love me more."

"Damn right I do."

So Youngjae sighed, sadly realizing there was no more wine left and that their food stood cold. Youngjae hated microwaves.

"I´m sorry, Youngjae."

He really looked remorseful, so Youngjae gave in.

With that, they did everything in silence, like a rotation or an automatic motion; Youngjae turned the television on, Jaebum turned the lights on, Youngjae did the dishes and Jaebum warmed the food up, he threw the bottle away, and then they sat down, twenty minutes later. After they finished up their food, they kissed a lot and touched a lot, until Youngjaes shirt was off and Jaebum was between his legs.

"Doesn´t Mark remind you of yourself when you were younger?" He asked afterwards.

"How so?"

"You both seemed to have a crush on your teacher."

Jaebum didn´t know what to say, he looked at his boyfriend, but couldn´t look at his face as he was facing the other way.

"You´re the dumbest person I´ve ever met, _Jaebum_."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lowkey this might be my fave chapter up till now because the true colours of the story is finally coming out. They finally kiss, even if it wasn´t that romantic. Who´s the real manipulator here?  
> This chapter is also shorter than usual but the events were p. important so I kept it that way, moreover finals are starting soon so I don´t know when the next chapter will see the light.  
> How do you guys feel about the developments? thank you so much for reading, as usual, and I want to give you all a ton of kisses for the lovely comments.  
> Thank you!


	7. Theory Seven.

_"Pervert."_

 

-

  
His teacher shoved him against the wall, never letting go of his shoulders when the thump hit. Mark could feel the debilating pain hit his every nerve, and before he had the time to properly hiss or cry about it, his teacher put his lips on his own. He bit, then he bit a little harder. Mark forgot all about the pain he felt, and the hands that were slammed against the dirty and dusty tiles of the classroom managed to hold Jaebums wrists instead, in a dire attempt of having some control over the situation.  
  
But Mark had given up all control to his teacher long ago, so this was more for show than kiss and tell, his teacher kissed the junction between his jawline and neck of which he knew Mark went weak on his knees for, making the floor feel like glass that could break at any second without either of them knowing what was under it.  
  
Before he knew it, his teacher let his hands go, and instead pulled his students brown locks back, hitting the wall for the second time.

At this rate, he was going to end up with a concussion, at least.  
  
Then he went down on his knees, down right under, forcefully within the rules of Marks consent - he liked it best when he was on his knees for his teacher, look up to him physically just like he always did mentally, perfect position to impress him and, ironically, the only way he could assert their equality, even if one was physically brusing himself for the other, and the other was receiving all the physical pleasure.

Mentally speaking, he considered it might have been the other way around.  
  
Mark couldn´t hear the sound of his teacher coming done, his grunts his gasps or his dirty words; he couldn´t feel his skin shudder or get goosebumps either, and neither could he look at his teacher, his man, his Eros.  
  
Because everytime Mark felt like he could be proud of what he had done, the room lost its colours, and suddenly he was alone.  
  
Alone, in his bed that was shook into a mess, water bottle on the nightstand next to him, empty packets of chips around it, some books scattered here and there. Then his alarm would go off, and Mark would realize he was sweating, that his hands were in his own gray and dirty slacks and that he had twenty messages on his phone, all probably from Jackson.

  
  
\- 

He wasn`t exactly sure what he was doing with himself - between making it seem like he was doing homework with his mouth hanging open, looking dumb, and his hands busy scrolling down his phone. Scrolling and scrolling though empty pages of emptier content that he had already seen at least ten times in the twenty minutes he tried to focus on an Art History essay. Surprisingly, it was essentially his least favourite subject if not to say that he felt like he needed twice the number of antidepressants everytime he left that class.

There was just something about Mr.Hassans monotome voice that ruined all of Salvador Dalis work for Mark, forever. Even though he was moderately impressed with the _The Great Masturbator_ and felt a genuine connection with Mr.Dali. Mark thought he would probably get along with his dear teacher, who didn´t have a single class scheduled for that day, so he didn´t have _that_ to release his stress with, either.  
  
So Mark was exhausted from being bored. Exhausted from sitting down and most of all exhausted from the boring, basic people he was surrounded with. It sounded condescending. It probably totally was. Save Jackson and Jinyoung and maybe three more people, Mark wouldn´t so much mind if any of them got reported missing.

He was just kidding, though. He wasn´t _that_ mean or miserly - he just wouldn´t catch a bullet for them, is all.

So _The Great Masturbator_ was laughing at him. Mocking him with every attempt of analysis he tried to get down on paper. Every letter felt ugly and every word felt like it was spelled wrong. He just couldn´t do it. The heat from the sun almost felt physical and like it was agressively knocking on his window, begging to be let in. Time couldn´t tick any slower if his life depended on it, either. Deciding he might _actually_ completely lose it if he didn´t do anything, anything at all, soon, he was already dialling Jacksons number.  
  
But that was unecessary, because he was already downstairs with Jinyoung, throwing rocks on his window even though he very well had a door like _most_ people.  
  
They were on their bikes.  
  
  
“Hey Rapunzel, want two handsome princes to save you from your tower of anguish?”  
  
  
And with that, Mark was already climbing down from his window, it was ridiculous mostly because he didn´t have to do that, because there was no one home, ridiculous because they wouldn´t have a problem with him going out at eight p.m on a Monday, anyway, but it was all for the sake of fake adventure and tradition, so it was fine and he forgiven.  
  
Jackson and Jinyoung thought so, too.  
  
Mark couldn´t ride a bicycle - he´d screech more than he´d hold his balance - so he sat with Jinyoung instead like he always did, who´s only request was for Mark not to mouth-breathe into his ear and if he does, at least take a menthol before doing it. Mark took this comment to heart and never needed the menthol in the first place. 

Even with the few minutes they spent on the bike, the painting of the sky already turned a few shades darker, the sun going down.

They arrived at a small hill that wasn´t secretive at all but the trio felt like it was, so they threw their bikes on the grass and sat under a tree that they claimed as their own.  
  
There was no one in the park. No children knocking their teeth out on the swings in the walking area, and no depressed workers cutting down the weeds in the supposedly closed-off area, which was really just an invitation for annoying teenagers to hold their drinking parties there - probably depressed and knocking their teeth out themselves - because it was reasonably close to the center yet far away enough to make them feel like they were cool or something.

So there they were, breathing in, then breathing out.

They didn´t really say anything at first. Which should´ve sent the alarms on overdrive in Marks mind. But he also had the ill faith of thinking that others couldn´t read him like he could read others. But he clearly underestimated his friends - he should´ve known that by now - and when the question was swung Mark barely managed to pitch.  
  
“Mark, tell us.”  
  
  
“The what?”  
  
  
“I don´t want to be annoying, but something happened between you and the teacher, right?”  
  
Mark sighed, turning to his side. Then he realized Jinyoung was staring at him from there.  
  
He was caught.  
  
Jackson lifted his head up with the palm of his hand, rest of his body still lying down. 

"You are being annoying, actually."  
  
“At least tell me what went down that night with Yugyeom, from start to finish. You know I know when you´re lying.” Jackson said. “If it makes you that uncomfortable, we´re not gonna force you but…”  
  
“I will.” Jinyoung finally said, his eyes still closed.   
  
Mark wondered if he should tell them the truth or not.  
  
Yugyeom ditching him, Youngjae, the kiss. It didn´t overwhelm Mark at all, for some reason, expecting himself to be awake and unable to sleep because of it, he actually could. Considering that and his bestfriends looking at him with both expectation and worry, Mark sighed, then he opened his mouth, the he closed it and sighed again.  
  
Then he looked at Jinyoung, and then he looked at Jackson.  
  
Finally, he told them about everything, from start to finish - from the little boy to his dear teacher, from his dreams ever since and how fucking beautiful his teacher looked after kissing him, a little wild and a little lost, hands on the steering wheel.  
  
When he was finished, the colour of the night turned into a _complete_ darkness, stars few and far between in the Californian sky.  
  
He expected Jackson to make a sarcastic comment, then he expected Jinyoung to be unimpressed. He thought they´d immediately react, maybe they´d laugh at his misadventures. But when he looked at them to find any of that, he only saw them looking at each other, as if they were talking without opening their mouths and like they could be mute without hands and blind and still understand one another.  
  
Suddenly Mark felt himself get a little hot.  
  
“Mark…” Jackson was the first one who spoke. “…please stop.”  
  
Mark let out the breath he was holding.  
  
“Why are you like this?”  
  
“I´m _serious_ Mark. Please stop. You´re gonna burn yourself.”  
  
Mark felt agitated, angry and most of all betrayed. There he was, spilling his heart to his two bestfriends, and they threw it back at him with a “get better” ribbon that reminded him of the gifts they´d give him when they were younger and he was sick in the hospital. It annoyed him, gritted his teeth and he wanted to let it out. Their words almost felt like real physical daggers and he felt stupid for even telling them anything. He wasn´t going to stay quiet. Not with his two bestfriends, out of all people.  
  
“ _You_ stop. What makes you two think you´re so much better than me?”  
  
“Literally nobody said that _Ma_ -”  
  
“ _You_ shut up, Jackson. You´ve been so annoying with the teacher lately. Are you crushing on him or something? Is that it?”  
  
“You´re being ridiculous, Mark.” Jinyoung interrupted, calmly.  
  
“No _you´re_ being ridiculous. Why don´t you two stay out of my business? Teache- _Jaebum_ knows what he´s doing for sure. You two know nothing.”  
  
“Who says teacher Jaebum knows something, anyway? You´re acting like a little kid right now.” Jinyoung snapped back. Then he stood up, just like Mark. “Adults aren´t superhumans you know? I think I know exactly why you´re doing this, Mark, but it´s _no_ t gonna work out.”  
  
Mark gulped.  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“Can´t defend yourself anymore?” Jinyoung asked, stepping closer, just a few centimeteres away from his friend. “We´re telling you this because we know you, Mark. He - Your teacher is _not_ perfect and he´s _not_ going to take responsibility for your bullshit.”  
  
He said it with a roll of the eyes and a mocking tone. Before Mark could try to chew and bite back, Jinyoung walked past him, bumped their shoulders and even though it was lightly, Mark felt it hard. He nudged towards their bikes.   
  
"This is going nowhere.” Jinyoung said. "Let´s go."

Mark and Jackson looked at each other, and before the latter could say anything, Jinyoung shouted at them to _go_ again.

  
  
-

  
  
Yet when they were in the classroom together, it was as if every other persons words were dissolved into mindless and unsexy tongue-talk, and all Mark could do was listen to the honey deep tone of his teachers cold voice, and his body language turned into his favourite book, or at least a clean second place to _The Great Gatsby._  
  
It was the first time they saw each other since the kiss, the same usual classroom with posters that have been there for literaly years, chewing-gum that has been there for longer than that. If walls could talk, Mark thought it´d probably bitch about how he doesn´t get taken care of enough.  
  
“How has your day been?”  
  
Mark snapped out of out of his trance, realized his mouth was hanging open a bit and that his eyes weren´t focusing on anything in particular.  
  
"I´m doing…” He looked up to him, eyes immediately eyeing him from top to bottom like he was surprised that it was _actually_ his teacher, “I´m doing…” his teacher sat down in front of him, rubbing his eyes. “…I´m doing fine?”  
  
“Doesn´t sound very convincing, boy.” He yawned.  
  
“What about you, teacher? Are you tired?”  
  
He smiled at him, eyebags more prominent than ever - it made him look younger.

“Nah. I´m doing fine.”  
  
“Have you slept well?”  
  
“Three hours. Your grade is supposed to go on some trip to a camp and the history teacher got sick - so I´m supposed to organize everything from scratch a week before the trip - she thought she was cute not informing the staff before."  
  
Even though the history teacher could not predict when she was going to fall sick, Mark sympathized.  
  
"That sucks.”  
  
“Doesn´t it?”  
  
“I never liked school trips.” Mark admitted, leaning his head on his crossed arms on the table, eyeing his teacher. “I always end up missing home."  
  
"Too bad.” His teacher sighed out, taking out a purple coloured book from his bag. “I thought you´d keep me company in the woods."  
  
Mark laughed out loud, then he realized what he said. "Oh pleas - wait, are you actually going?”  
  
“Did you hear what I said, little kid, you´re way too young to be having hearing problems already.” His teacher sighed out again, annoyed. “Mrs. Parker dropped out with the flu and I´m the youngest so the rest of the staff dumped it on me since _no one_ wants to take a bunch of seventeen year olds out anywhere. And s _ince the philosophy teacher doesn´t have a girlfriend or family, he could probably take them out._ "

He said the last words mockingly, he was tired.   
  
Mark sat straight. "I am going though. Old man."

It felt nice. Talking casually and his fatigue  gave his teacher a chance to relax a little. It was like they were friends instead of something weird, and like that, Mark still yearned for his stern, collected teacher.

"I got into a fight with Jackie and Jinyoung again.” He confessed.  
  
“Again? You guys fight a lot don´t you?”  
  
“No, just recently. I don´t know what pissed in their cereal lately but it´s really annoying.”  
  
“Who knows,” His teacher said. “Maybe you´re the problem. I´ve said it before haven´t I?"  
  
He had.  
  
And with that, his teacher shoved the book in his hand. It had Freuds name on it. That was all.  
  
"You said you liked Freud best, so I took excerpts from his best work and compiled it for you to read. The others are just reading _Studies on Hysteria_ in class, but I want you to read a variety of his stuff…mostly about dream interpretation-” Mark really loved the way his teacher looked when he was passionately talking about his subject. It´s what made him feel so attracted towards him in the first place, he loved it, he loved it.  
  
“…also added some stuff on his life like how he thought cocaine could help nasal inflammation.”  
  
“Maybe you should give that to Mrs. Parker. See how quick she organizes the trip."  
  
His teacher laughed. It felt good.

  
" _And_ , kid. Since you seem like a really horny person, I want you to relate his psychosexual development theory to today."  
  
_Since you seem like a really horny person._ Mark raised his eyebrows, raised his head, looked at his teacher who was reading through his own copy of his own notes. Did he imagine him saying that? Surely Mark was not going crazy   _yet._ So he looked at his eyes concentrated on the words, then he looked at his hands holding the pages. He looked at him, bewildered, for a good few seconds before he opened his mouth.  
  
"Teacher...”  
  
“Just an observation.” His teacher said, putting the book down, looking at his student. "It´s not always good to act on your impulses, boy, it might get you in trouble someday."

He poked his cheek with the edge of the book, teasingly. Mark lost it somewhere in the middle of it, and before he could give _any_ kind of consent to his own actions - the impulses his teacher mentioned - he quickly held his hand before he could pull away, and the book fell with a thump on the table. Then he put his teachers hand on his cheek again.

His teacher didn´t look that surprised, not really.

“Feel free to prove me otherwise, _little boy_.” words slurred,  finger poking his cheek and then running down to his chin, thumb moving up to his bottom lip, pulling it a little. So Mark bit it, lightly at first, and then sucked on it slowly, grazing his teeth on it, never once losing eye contact with his teacher, who looked bigger than before.  
  
“See? _Horny_. No wonder you like Freud the best." Mark groaned, biting his teachers fingers when that one changed his thumb for his index and middle finger instead, feeling his teeth and his tongue.

"Pervert."He said it like an accusation. Sighing out in the ridiculous satisfaction he was feeling with his fingers in his students mouth, bright daylight and if he looked outside of the window, he could still see some students grab their bikes to leave. He didn´t notice any of that.

"Want to know something?" His teacher said, feeling his teeth, losing eye-contact and his student suddenly looked so much older. "He´s my favourite too."  
  
Mark smiled. His teacher could feel it.  
  
“ _Pervert_."

Then Jaebum wanted to grab him, bend him over the table and teach him a _real_ adult lesson. But someone knocked on the door and a student walked in. HJaebum panicked and quickly took his fingers out of his mouth, hurting Mark with the sudden and unexpected roughness.  
  
"Sorry, forgot my notebook.” the girl said, completely unaware of what was happening or what she interrupted.  
  
And just like she came in, she was gone.

Marks hands covering his mouth, his gums literally bleeding a bit.

"Shit - come here, I´ll clean you up." His teacher said, taking out tissues and dabbing Marks lips with it.

"I could help you out with the organizing stuff, teacher." He said in the middle of it.

And fully aware of his intentions and how dangerous their little game was, his dear teacher couldn´t say no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: This was way smuttier and angstier, but I decided against it. Hopefully the finger sucking scene wasn´t too weird for anyone lmao. ANYWAYS. The problems pile up and their thing is getting dangerous. Mark is getting a little too obsessed and Jaebum is...well. I usually hate it when certain characters are a clear voice of reason but I couldn´t avoid it oml. ANYWAYS (again) tell me what you guys think of the developments, and thank as always for reading and all the lovely comments, they give me life<3
> 
> (Another shameless plug, I started a new chaptered fic...it´s Markjin and Jinyoung is a stripper and Mark is a total fuckboi and it´s really fluffy to contrast this mess.)


	8. Theory Eight.

_"The feeling in his stomach was starting to resemble spiders more than they did to butterflies. He liked that."_

_-_

**Actual triggers!!! - Suicide mention. None of the main characters but Youngjae works in psych unit and talks about it.**

 

  
The trees felt like a video of giants that was put on pause. The trees were too high, too green too dreamlike to be real or to be appropriate in that location, on a nearly abandoned railway with a small, moldy trainstop where at most four people could sit in if they squeezed and pushed each others thighs together. The advertisement on the board right next to it was way outdated, but Jaebum could still make out that it was promoting some sort of make-up, with a glamorous looking woman on it, but the sunlight bleached it to the point that Jaebum couldn´t make out what brand it exactly was.  
  
The pretty green trees made even prettier shadows on the railway, making shapes like a kaleidoscope - if Jaebum looked up, he could just barely see the sky because the trees on both sides of the railways were entangled into each other like they were dancing, and it made it the perfect place to read a book in without being worried of the sunlight turning its pages yellow.  
  
The cicadas chirped and there was no cloud in the sky to see - it was a sticky summer for a while now, but it was the hottest day in Miami to boot, and Jaebum could never ever get used to the warmth or the feeling of his shirt being stuck against his chest and drops of sweat running down his back. Really, if it was up to him it could be winter all year long and it didn´t matter that he might die from lack of vitamin C, because supplements always existed. Moreover, the leaves never felt any greener until one fell on the book he was reading - page 135 specifically - of _Catchers in the Rye._  
  
It interrupted his reading, and Jaebum briefly considered using it as a bookmarker but decided not to just in case the pretty green colour would fade.  
  
He could see the tiny, tiny insects creep up on the bench, and before Jaebum could figure out if they were termites or ants, a voice interrupted his thoughts.  
  
_“You should stay here sometime.”_  
  
The voice came seemingly out of nowhere.  
  
“You´re just nineteen, after all.”  
  
“Youngjae,” Jaebum said, acknowledged when he turned his head around to see the source of the voice, which was in fact his classmate. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“You´re not the only one who takes this train, you know.”  
  
Jaebum didn´t, as a matter of fact, know. He wondered why they still ran the train over that stop, since he was always the only one getting on and the only one waiting to begin with. So he changed the subject.  
  
“Aren´t you from Korea?”  
  
“Aren´t you, too?”  
  
Jaebum closed his book almost unconsciously at this, trapping the leaves between its pages and looked up to his classmate.  
  
“I´m not visiting family,” He said. “Where are you going?”  
  
Youngjae smiled. "Wouldn´t you like to know?"  
  
Jaebum frowned at him. Not necessarily annoyed, but amused.  
  
"You´re really kind, you know that?” Youngjae said, and sat down on the other end of the bench. “Like, you´re a little out of it at times but you´re super nice with others.”  
  
Jaebum didn´t answer mainly because he felt like it was rhetorical.  
  
“But I think people might take advantage of that.”  
  
Now that was just a little rude, so Jaebum scoffed because he felt it was right to do and then he put his book next to him on the bench.  
  
“Whatever, dude."  
  
“You always leave the dorms on the weekends, where are you going?”  
  
“My sugarmamma.” Jaebum said it like it a joke, and Youngjae even laughed.  
  
He laughed, and honestly Jaebum should´ve told him he wasn´t actually kidding to see what expression he´d pull. Then again, his amusement and laughter was quite a sight as well, so Jaebum decided to keep quiet about it. At that exact moment, between admiring Youngjaes laughing and him considering whether he should tell him or not, the rusty, dusty and discolored train arrived and Jaebum quickly got on his feet to go on it, half-expecting Youngjae to do the same thing.  
  
But Youngjae just waved at him, sitting on the bench.  
  
"I forgot my money at the dorms."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Oh. The doors closed, and Jaebum didn´t think that Youngjae was actually going to go anywhere. He had no bags with him, nor did he have a ticket. He had never seen him at the trainstop before and he wondered why he would lie about that. Bewildered and surprised, he realized he left his copy of the _Catchers in the Rye_ behind, when he looked out of the window he saw Youngjae open it - his figure becoming the size of a toy in a matter of seconds.

  
  
-

  
  
“Jaebum.”  
  
Jaebum was prone to having strange dreams. Youngjae always said that it was all those years of studying philosophy that did it, but Jaebum wasn´t sure. Moreover, he didn´t always dream, especially not at night. No, Jaebum dreamt the strangest, weirdest and simultaneously best things when he was having a nap or sleeping in a car. Right now he was having a nap - if you could call it that - after an all-nighter, so it was 3 p.m, and in his dreams he saw a familiar railroad, and a massive realistic spider crawling extremely fast on it, while Jaebum did nothing but sit watch and admire it as it crawled just a few feet away from him, heartbeat pulsing hard in his chest and he could even feel it in wrist, perfectly able to move if he wanted to, but didn´t.  
  
"-- _Jaebum!_ "  
  
And then he was awake, from one moment to another, immediately forgetting his dream and immediately feeling Youngjae on top of him, his ass in the air and both his hands on his shoulders to hold himself up. Jaebum was woken up in many strange ways in his life, Youngjae initiating anything kinky was not one of them.  
  
"What are you doi-"  
  
“I _said_ , work called in. One of my kids got sick and Veronica can´t handle them all by herself.”  
  
"But we don´t have kids." Jaebum looked around in his room, staring at every item for a few seconds to confirm his position. He rubbed his eyes. "Wait, do you have kids?"  
  
Youngjae sighed really loud in a way that only Youngjae could. It was the kind of sigh that made the other person feel like he had done it a thousand times in a span of ten minutes and if Jaebum had a top three of things he didn´t like about his boyfriend, his sighing was definitely number three on the list. He was used to it though, and Youngjae seemed not only stressed, but morally deceased to boot.  
  
“Work, Jaebum. Your boyfriend works in pediatric psych unit?”  
  
So his boyfriend who works in a pediatric psych unit got off of him, rolling his eyes and searched for his trousers on the flood of clothes in his room - most of them, ironically, belonging to Youngjae.  
  
"Right." Jaebum remembered. "How´s Aki doing? I know you liked him."  
  
Youngjae sighed again. Jaebum was tempted to sigh himself. "I _told_ you he was transferred to another hospital last week - do you listen to a thing I say?"  
  
Of course Jaebum did. It offended him that Youngjae would think any less of him, so he sat straight and waited till Youngjae struggled with his jeans to let himself fall on the bed again, wrestling with the zip and belt.  
  
"I gained weight." Youngjae said half-heartedly. "Jaebum, _I gained weight_. I don´t fit these anymore."  
  
Jaebum patted his stomach a few times.  
  
"You could gain some more if you want, you´re sexy either way."  
  
But Youngjae was talking to himself by now in a way only Youngjae could. If Jaebum had a top three of things he didn´t like about his boyfriend, him talking to himself was definitely number two on the list, and marriage therapists would definitely say that that was a flashing red warning sign of a bad relationship. Jaebum didn´t think about it too much.  
  
“Now I have to drive home to get some jeans that actually fit me. I´m gonna get late.”  
  
“The children can wait.” Jaebum tried, yawning, dropping back into the matress. “You should just move in with me to avoid all of this.”  
  
Youngjae stopped wiggling in his jeans that couldn´t be closed -- he looked at his boyfriend, teary-eyed and all, looking like he was trying to find something that he couldn´t see at first. Unfortunately, he didn´t seem to find it, ever.  
  
Jaebum honestly didn´t dislike the idea of having Youngjae move in with him rather, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense to him to compromise. It was close to both their jobs and Youngjae slept over for days whenever he felt like it, anyway. It was the next logical step in their relationship, he thought, they were on that age and they´ve known each other for long enough.  
  
Which is why he was only mildly surprised when Youngjae said he didn´t want to.  
  
"Stop that."  
  
“Fine.” Jaebum gave up, ignoring the little thump in his heart. “Let´s kiss, at least.”  
  
So Youngjae dropped his shoulders from the tension he put himself in and fell into Jaebums arms, back hitting the wall thrown back into the bed and his lips falling on the other mans. It was sweet and it was soft and it was everything Youngjae wanted it to be, because Jaebum always moved and touched with caution when it came to his boyfriend, because he didn´t like pain or any of the roughness Jaebum secretly yearned for.  
  
Slipping his hands in his pants he squeezed his butt.  
  
“I love you, Jae.”  
  
Youngjae kissed him some more, feeling that if this went on any longer, he´d be too turned on to drive and not potentially break some road laws and end up with a night in jail, so he propped himself up from his position and looked into his boyfriends eyes, his hands on his ass still.  
  
“Not now,” He said. “Tonight.”  
  
"Alright superman, go help them kids now."  
  
That made him want to cry. So he nodded, and when he kissed Jaebum again, he felt like he was kissing the Jaebum he fell in love with in university, who´d gush over him saying that he was basically superman to help mentally ill children.  
  
"Right...I love you."

  
  
-

  
  
“Teacher, you look like something is bothering you.”  
  
Teacher looked at his student, seemed to forget that he was even there in the first place, both for him and himself. Yet he was sitting there, in an actual time and place in his own chair of which the white was coming off exposing its actual brown colour, and his student in front of him, frustratingly checking which pens worked and which didn´t, making ugly crosses on the notebook that stabbed into the paper instead of painting on it, looking awfully adorable in his struggle.  
  
“Here,” Teacher said, reaching over to a blue pen that Mark hadn´t used yet, and wrote on the notebook. “This one works.” He smiled.  
  
So Mark smiled back at him, and took the pen from his hands, but his teacher didn´t want to let go. So he pulled, and Jaebum´s grin grew with the struggle of his little boy trying to take the pen.  
  
Mark was weak compared to Jaebum. It was almost evident in both their age, size and mindset. Mark wasn´t necessarily _weak_ though. Jaebum thought he was pretty smart, actually, and sometimes wondered whether his personality was just an act or a game to him, or if it was actually him. Either way, Mark was strong, but just weak compared to his teacher.  
  
So he let go, and Mark tumbled back with the force and impact and it didn´t matter to him, because he had the trophy (the pen) in his hands regardless.  
  
“Now what was that for, teacher?”  
  
“Dunno.” So his teacher pointed at the notebook. “I´m hungry - want some food?”  
  
Mark was already in the kitchen.  
  
“Is Youngjae coming?” He asked. “He said you couldn´t cook.”  
  
“Youngjae just loves to talk shit about me, boy.” He ruffled Marks hair, behind him, hands in his strands and chest against his back. “But I can still cook. Rice and stuff.”  
  
With the heat of his teacher behind him, Mark felt extremely conscious of the hand that went from his head down to his neck.  
  
He breathed in, he shuddered and he felt the little pressure his teacher put there - around his neck, experimental, Mark wanted to fall back for him to catch him. He didn´t do that, instead, he laughed softly, the sound vibrating and Jaebum could feel it on his fingertips.  
  
“That´s not cooking, teacher.”  
  
Unsure if he meant the rice or the fact that his teacher was pressed up against him in nothing but joggers and an oversized white shirt, his hand went from his neck down to his arms to his wrists, then finally holding his hand, the other hand pinned against the counter and his front still pressed against it.  
  
"Where´s Youngjae?" Mark asked.  
  
“Working - he helps kids with mental problems.” But he didn´t seem that interested. "You should take better care of yourself - it´s a shame your hair is so burnt at your age."  
  
As if to prove his point, he pressed his cheek against Marks, inhaling the scent of his shampoo, and his hips, voluntarily or not, budging forward a bit.  
  
Really, it was his fault that Mark let out a moan when his teacher put his hands in hair, entangled and twirling strands, feeling his breath on his skin, making his own speed up.  
  
“And your skin is a little blemished, and your nails are too long.” He touched his hands to empathize, suddenly his teacher was mouthing against his neck, lips touching, talking, never directly kissing.  
  
“I don`t like my hair, or my nails or my skin.”  
  
Mark closed his eyes.  
  
“I do.” His teacher said. “I do.”  
  
Mark believed him, and it was only because the bacon sizzled to a deafening high why Jaebum moved away from him, letting Mark breath again, making him feel empty and looking at his teacher from tip to toe when he turned the stove off.  
  
“Nymphomaniac.” He accused.  
  
Jaebum just smiled. Like he wasn´t admitting or denying it.  
  
“I´ll make some guacamole and bacon. It´s good.”  
  
“That´s the weirdest combination ever, teacher.”  
  
It didn´t matter, minutes later they had a feast on the small garden table that was a makeshift dinner table. Cut up tomatoes and avocado, breadsticks and bacon and pieces of lemon. It was simple, yet Mark loved every bite, extending his arm over the table to stab into his teachers plate and steal his food.  
  
Mark looked kind of adorable like that, Jaebum thought, and suddenly felt the incessant need of stuffing him full of food some he could rub his stomach and feel satisfied.  
  
“Open up,” He said, making “Aah” sounds like he was a baby, and Mark obliged, just now noticing his textbooks were shoved aside for the food, and suddenly the fork was in his mouth.  
  
“Do you like it?”  
  
Mark nodded enthusiastically. “A lot.”  
  
"That´s good."  
  
His teacher seemed satisfied, even though he didn´t eat half the amount Mark did. When they were done, Jaebum was the one who cleaned up the table and put them in the sink (naturally, he didn´t wash them) and when he walked back into the living room, he saw his student on his couch, the only light being a dim orange one that made his skin look pretty, contrasting with the dark blue colour outside, the nightsky making the buildings seem like siluettes that were completely black, minus the lights coming out from the windows.  
  
It was ten p.m, and Jaebum wasn´t sure when Youngjae was coming home.  
  
As if he could read his mind, Mark asked him just that.  
  
So he sat down, next to Mark who was half lying down, looking at him through heavy lidded eyes.  
  
"I don´t know. Depends on the day -- normally he comes around midnight though."  
  
"That´s rough."  
  
Jaebum smiled. "He loves his job."  
  
Mark sat straight, looked at his teacher looking at him - his eyes his nose and then his lips, eyes fixed right there, he asked him why he chose to do something so taxing like psychiatry.  
  
"Does it have anything to do with your bestfriend?"  
  
"Yeah," His teacher whispered, struck with the way Mark was looking at his lips. "I´m surprised you remember that, kid."  
  
"Don´t underestimate me, teacher."  
  
"What would you do?" He asked. "What would you do if Jackson disappeared one day, tomorrow?"  
  
"I´d want to go after him."  
  
"We all would."  
  
He whispered it like a confession, and neither of them realized that their heads were touching - Mark was surprised to hear that from his teacher, the words barely processing his mind, more words about to spill from his mouth before analyzing them.  
  
"Want me to read you a bedtime story, babyboy?"  
  
For the first time in his time with his dear teacher, Mark felt a familiar feeling in his stomach that was very similar to fear, and he wasn´t sure whether it felt good or not. It kept him close to the elder, made him want to submit to him completely just to see what would happen and just to see whether he could take him over and make him forget or not.  
  
So his teacher said it like a joke. But both knew perfectly well that there was more truth to it than anything. It was a dare, it was an invitation for Mark to take or leave, it was reality as long as he wanted it to be, because his dear teacher would, of course, not force him to do anything he didn´t to take part in.  
  
Asessing the reaction of his body, the fuzzy feeling in his stomach that was closer to spiders than it was to butterflies, Mark knew what he wanted. He didn´t have to think about it, accepting the feeling - he didn´t know what exactly made his teacher show his cracks and flaws, and neither did Mark know if he liked them or not.  
  
But for now, he was going to let go. Say yes to the things that were offered to him. See what happened.  
  
So he dropped his head on his teachers shoulder, spoke in the same low tone as he was, arched his back, let out a breath he didn´t know he was holding until he felt the shivers on his skin.  
  
"Please."  
  
His idea of a bedtime story was one of Freud.  
  
When Jaebum was younger, he lost his virginity to a girl who told him all about him.  
  
Rather, it was the first time he felt like he was really having sex. Jaebum, much like most people, fucked with no real rhyme or reason to. There was no one who made him want to do it slower and more gentle until he met Youngjae, and there was no one who made him want to take control and do it roughly like he was feeling with Mark, his student.  
  
Jaebum liked sex. Most people did. The first time he really knew what it truly meant was when he met an older girl who was a senior in highschool while he was two years younger - her name was Cao Lu and she was Chinese-American and nobody in her class really liked her, because she was strange and had a lot of tattoos, wore a lot of eyeliner and at least five ear piercings, along the ones on her nipples.  
  
Jaebum was infatuated with her. There was no other tag to give it. It was interest, it was mutual interest and it was strange and perverted and it lasted a whole two months that felt utterly liberating.  
  
His mother would´ve probably had a couple of heart-attacks. His father might have just kicked him out. The people from his class thought he was strange to begin with, and not even Youngjae knew about his episode with the girl.  
  
Overtime he learned that people called it sadomasochism.  
  
The art of control and submission.  
  
With Mark it was something just as strange as that.  
  
Except it wasn´t explicit in a sexual form.  
  
It was explicit in every other connection.  
  
So he put his arm around the younger boy.  
  
“Human beings are funny.” He said, opening the book. “They long to be with the person they love, but can´t admit it openly.”  
  
His own breath sped up, the smell of his teacher completely overwhelming him - it was on his couch, on his skin, right next to him. He shuddered, reached his hand out and put it on his thigh.  
  
“Some are afraid to show even the slightest bit of affection becaus-” Hand between his thigh, lips on his neck. It didn´t take long, didn´t take long at all. Jaebum paused. “-because of fear.”  
  
But Mark was fearless with his teacher. So Freud could suck it, he though, kissing his teachers neck, his thumb rubbing circles in his inner thigh, separating his legs.  
  
“Fear that their feelings may not be recognized, or even worse, returned.”  
  
Mark moaned, then he slid down, kissing wherever he could, his neck his shoulder and his teachers hand on the book until he was on his knees, his head on his teachers knees, listening to him while biting - it was automatic.  
  
“But one thing about human beings that puzzle m-me…the most…”  
  
His teacher put on hand in Marks hair, pushing him down, bucking his own hips up.  
  
"Keep going teacher, or I might not learn like I should."  
  
His voice was muffled from the cloth in his mouth, his lips on his inner, clothed, thigh, while his hands were on his teachers belt. Then he went up, took it between his teeth and took it off completely, hands on his knees and even opened the button of his jeans with his mouth, going down again to kiss his teachers hardening cock.  
  
“But one thing about humans that puzzle me the most, is their conscious effort to be connected to the object of their aff-affection-”  
  
His jeans were hanging on his knees, his student now kissing his inner thighs again, hand rubbing his member till he hissed and it was standing proud.  
  
“Even if it kills them slowly, oh _fuck_ it Mark.”  
  
It sent shivers down his spine, the rawness of his voice mixed with the thump of the book being thrown on the floor - then it happened like it happened in all of his dreams, Jaebums hands pulled his hair, and in a matter of second Mark was gagging on his teacher, saliva slipping out, tears in his eyes.  
  
“Are you really a good boy?”  
  
“Yeah, teacher, _real good_.”  
  
And just like that, he pulled him up his hair, off of his knees and back on the couch, kissing him roughly while Marks legs were wrapped around his hips, tasting himself, the taking a hold of his neck just like before, but this time harder, Marks head hanging off the couch and Jaebum sat straight, looking at him.  
  
"This is fucked up - are you getting off on this?"  
  
His student couldn´t talk, he could barely breath, but he nodded anyway.  
  
So Jaebum touched his crotch, confirming it, and then he let go of him, Mark gasped loudly and he should´ve probably mentioned to his teacher that he was asthmatic, but he didn´t mind it. Nor did he mind the way his mind went on autopilot to finish what he started, not with his mouth but with his hand while he kissed his teacher, sitting on one of his thighs while his teachers hand was rubbing circles on his back.  
  
Then he came, and just like it was in the classroom, Mark stuck his fingers in his teachers mouth, so he could taste himself.  
  
And Jaebum did, he opened his mouth, sucked on his fingers.  
  
They were both left exhausted, just realizing what they did.  
  
“You look so good.”  
  
“Yeah, teacher, real good, for you.”  
  
And just like that, the phone rang a couple of times, and neither picked up.  
  
"Teacher-"  
  
His teacher fell asleep. It was adorable, Mark thought, and he giggled to himself, deciding to put some covers on him and a blanket.  
  
He went into the kitchen, drank some water and wrote a note for when he woke up - but on his way to put it on the table, he saw the missed calls from Youngjae.  
  
He looked at the name, mocking him, for a good few seconds.  
  
When it rang for a sixth time, Mark crumpled up the paper and threw it in the bin.

  
  
-

  
  
Jaebum had a total of fourty minutes sleep before the front door opened, or at least that´s what it felt like, and it was only the click of the door which woke him up and put him back toreality. Kind of. He looked around, wondered if Mark was still there, and only then did he notice the pillows and blanket around him.  
  
He must´ve left. It was midnight, just like Jaebum predicted.

So he hadn´t slept fourty minutes, but much longer than that.  
  
Before he could ask Youngjae how work was, he heard a loud smash in the kitchen, then another, then another, and finally a loud and frustrated shout.  
  
So startled he stood up and ran to the kitchen, Youngjae was on the kitchen floor, grabbing the pieces from the dropped plates one by one, looking completely and utterly out of it, like his body and soul weren´t connected, like he was moving by order and rotation.  
  
Jaebum didn`t say anything, just looked at him pathetically.  
  
"Oh hi, seems you actually remember me." Youngjae snickered.  
  
"I didn´t hear you, sorry."  
  
"I´ve been here for an hour."  
  
Youngjae flinched, his fingers bleeding from a cut, throwing half a broken plate back on the floor from the pain.  
  
Jaebum sighed.

"Don´t do that."  
  
But Youngjae refused to let his boyfriend help him, he´d rather suck it up and cut off his whole arm if he had to.  
  
"I had a shit day at work," He said. "Two girls got put on suicide watch and I was scared Jaebum, I was so, so scared and felt so helpless. I was supposed to help them, but all I could do was just stare at them while they put plastic knives to their wrists. The senior ladies did all my work, all I could do was confiscate their bags and go with them to the supervised rooms."  
  
Jaebum gulped.  
  
"And then Linda told me that if I can´t handle that even two years after being in the job I should probably stick to counseling. I wondered whether I could do this or not when others have so much more self-control than I do-- b-but there was also good, Vanessa graduated her primary art school and she´s doing better than ever, we´re thinking of talking to her parents to sponsor her and send her to a dance academy with a supervisor."  
  
"That´s good." Jaebum said, couldn´t think of what else to say.  
  
Youngjae smiled, didn´t reach his eyes.  
  
"And then I wanted to tell all of this to my boyfriend, and he doesn´t pick up. I bumped into Mark and some other kid on my way here, you know?" He looked up to him. "He was here, wasn´t he?"  
  
Jaebum shook his head.  
  
"Don´t lie. Oh god, don´t lie. There are two plates in the sink. I´m not stupid."  
  
So Jaebum didn´t know what to say for the second time that day.  
  
"What are you doing, Jaebum?"  
  
"You´re imagining things, Jae. Let me clean up the floor, go to bed."  
  
Youngjae stood up, listening to his boyfriend, but instead of going straight to bed like he told him to, he watched Jaebum sweep away the porcelain. He briefly wondered if Jaebum changed over the years or if this was always in him. Either way, it made him feel sad.

"Leave it," Youngjae said. "Kiss me."

Kiss him. Jaebum bit his lip, continued sweeping like he didn´t hear the other because Jaebum was childish and that is what childish people did.

"Fine. Fuck you."

And then Youngjae turned around, went to Jaebums bed and shut the door, an indirect way of telling him he was sleeping on the couch tonight.

Jaebum had no problem with that. Mark already gave him pillows and covers, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I hate hate hate hate this chapter but I´ve been staring at it for too long.  
> 2\. I haven´t forgotten about this fic.  
> 3\. I´m actually proud of another fic I´m writing that no one is reading (aka Henessey Ain´t Got Nothin On You) aka it´s the total opposite of this and it´s so fluffy i need new teeth everytime I write a paragraph.  
> 4\. I graduated yesterday.  
> 5\. I actually didn´t fall on my heels.  
> 6\. I might be a little hungover.  
> 7\. I´ll update a lot faster now.  
> 8\. I´m torn between English Literature, Animation and god forbid, Creative Writing.  
> 9\. Thank you for reading.


	9. Theory Nine.

  
_"Jaebum's walls were finally starting to crumble down in the same rhythm he was fucking into his student."_

  
  
-

  
  
Jaebum woke up to Youngjae stuffing all of the things that belonged to him, ironically, in a big bag that belonged to Jaebum. He took everything, including his collection of white tee shirts that Jaebum also wore from time to time, his aftershave and deodorant, his toothbrush, his socks and Calvin Klein underwear.  
  
Funnily enough, Jaebum felt that although all the things that were now missing from his apartment were heavily impersonal, he still felt like it was suddenly a lot emptier and colder than before. So he looked at his boyfriend, not looking angry, or sad, but somewhere between the two, mixed with a serenity that was so typical of him.  
  
"I'm leaving for a while."  
  
It hurt. Jaebum gulped, asked him if he really had to.  
  
"There's so much I can take," Youngjae said. "We held each other down for the past five years, but the way I see it, there's nothing left of the man I fell in love with in university," He tapped his bag, went to the bathroom to grab his towel. "And I don't know if this is the way you've always been, or if something happened that I can't fix."  
  
Jaebum knew that he didn't want him answering right now, so he kept shut. Either way, anyway, he didn't think he was able to talk even if he asked him to, because he might've started crying.  
  
"But I _refuse_ to feel responsible for our relationship going to shit when I _know_ I gave it my all. _You're_ the problem."

You're the problem. Jaebum really, honestly wanted to shout at him as he felt his frustration and anger rising to his pulse beating faster and faster - but he didn't do that, still capable of understand that if he did, he would _definitely_ regret it.  
  
"Are you breaking up with me?" Jaebum asked.  
  
"If anything, I'm doing this exactly because I don't want to break up with you," Youngjae sighed, sat down. "Nowadays I'm wondering, do I really even know you?"  
  
"You're such a-" _Such a hypocrite. Selfish person. You never thought about me. It was always about you. You're the problem._  He wanted to say all of that, but none of the words came out properly. Youngjae looked at him, as if he dared him to go on, or as if he was actually willing to listen. Jaebum couldn't tell right now, even five years after knowing the boy, what exactly that expression meant.

Maybe five years wasn't actually a long time.

With that realization, Jaebum didn't know what to do or say, so he did what came naturally to him, what he was best at - he walked towards his bed, sat down in a way that the sports bag was the only thing separating the two.  
  
"I want some time between us," Youngjae said, his voice finally cracking and showing his weakness for the first since he started his speech full of bravado. He didn't last long, Jaebum thought. "Alright?"  
  
"Yeah," Jaebum nodded. "Yeah of course, Youngjae, I'd _love_ to."  
  
"Don't you talk to me like that."  
  
And then, just like that, from one second to another, Youngjae was lying flat on the bed, Jaebum on top of him, kissing him so hard Youngjae forgot how to breathe, how to inhale and exhale and doing it again, Jaebums hand around his neck just like he did to Mark the night before. He had never done this to Youngjae, because Youngjae seemed to be made out of porcelain and Youngjae didn't like pain. He wanted to kiss him different, hold him different, love him different. But Youngjae never gave him the chance to.  
  
So Youngjae gasped for desperate air, a string of saliva on his chin. He opened his mouth to say something, but Jaebum interrupted him, putting his knee between the youngers legs.  
  
" _You're_ the one who changed, you used to be so much more fun and carefree. _I've_ always been like this, baby."  
  
"Sort yourself out man." Jaebums hand was still around his throat, so he could feel the vibrations from his voice, he could almost _hear_ Youngjaes heart thump and he was almost certain it was excitement he was feeling, and definitely arousal between his legs. What a hypocrite. "Whatever your fucked up relationship is with your _student_ you're going to end up so, _so_ hurt."  
  
Youngjae sat straight, fisted Jaebums shirt, widening it even more around the collar.  
  
"You're not alright up there, you know?"  
  
" _You_ were the one chasing after me, Jae. I think you like it."  
  
"Didn't know you were a gross nymphomaniac. In my line of work we call this _projecting_. You're pathetic. Mark must think you're so fucking cool. If only he knew what a loser you really are."  
  
" _You_ were the one chasing after the loser, baby."  
  
" _I_ don't let some highschooler fuck with me," Youngjae bit back. "Then again, you were always good at letting the wrong kind of people fuck you over, hm?"  
  
It hurt so much, Youngjaes words were pumped with venom that dripped off of every letter, so Jaebum drank the poison up - kissing him hard, then a little harder , so hard he could feel the copper taste of blood that was definitely sweeter than Mark´s. Jaebum found it a tragedy that he only learned this after so long, feeling kind of like they were animals fighting on his bed.

They pushed and they pulled and they bit and they sucked and they left bruises with the intention of being seen by everyone - reminding everyone that they were taken, reminding little kids that their teacher was already compromised, remind each other exactly of each other, made sure than the bite was so deep in their skin that they could never ever forget.  
  
And then Youngjae was gone, leaving an out of breath, aching Jaebum on the bed, picking up his Nike sportsbag.  
  
''Talk to me when you've found yourself again," Youngjae said. "Next time I see Mark, I'll give him some advice."

The apartment was left in silence after a soft thump of the front door - just as harmless as Youngjae was to him. He would never admit to the sadness that dawned upon him in the cold silence of the apartment, and neither would he admit how his words echoed through his head, or how much he wondered what  their true feelings and  what was said in the heat of the moment.  
  
Moreover, he wondered really who was the key to the path to finding himself, as Youngjae said. Was it Youngjae, or was it Mark?  
  
Both thoughts gave him a headache, so he worked on the papaer work of the trip organization until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore, and then he fell asleep.

  
  
\--

  
  
Mark did help him with the paperwork though, and Jaebum even managed to get some sleep before Monday. He didn´t do it purposely, but he kept his phone closer to him during his first weekend without Youngjae in a very, very long time.  
  
He forgot how monotone the night could feel without him. Freaked out at every sound of heels clicking the floor whenever someone was in the hallway, his ears perking up like a dog, his habit of waiting for Youngjae dying hard and expecting him to walk in, telling him about his day, with two full bag of groceries under each arm.  
  
He never did come though. And Jaebum learnt the hard way that despite his bluffing to Mark, he was pretty useless in cooking anything but bacon and rice and pasta. Really, his mother always said he was useless in doing housework, and prompted him to at least marry a girl who was good at it so he didn´t live like a homeless man.  
  
When he thought about it, Youngjae said the same thing, except instead of saying _“marry a girl who can cook and clean”_ , it was _“be glad you have me to help you out.”_  
  
Jaebum promptly decided to _not_ think about whether he actually appreciated Youngjae or not. Or whether he was just guilt-tripping himself, or whether or not he was actually in the wrong.  
  
Anyway, either way, Monday arrived, and although Jaebum never thought he´d look forward to a school trip, he at least had something to keep his mind off of the impending doom of unwashed coffee cups in his sink, and the small mountain of take-out on his coffee table that was a day away from manifesting to life and eat Jaebum up, instead, screaming about capitalism and animal cruelty or something.  
  
“The trip is tomorrow and I expect you all at the bus station at seven a.m, and Jackson, I still don´t have your authorization.”  
  
Jackson waved him off. “So what?”  
  
“You´re a minor.”  
  
“As if you care about that.”  
  
Jaebum was the only who catched the double-meaning, clearly, because the class didn´t seem impressed.  
  
So Jaebum smiled, told Jackson to bring it tomorrow or he´ll get left behind, and walked out the classroom for the first time in his career feeling like he was getting kicked out.

  
  
\--

  
  
It didn't even have to be the designated hours to see each other anymore, so Mark went to see his teacher in the classroom with the excuse of forgetting his book, and the promise of meeting Jackson and Jinyoung in twenty minutes to skip the rest of the schoolday.  
  
He sat on his sleeping teachers lap, tempted to draw a moustache on his face, but didn´t have the chance to because he woke up too quickly, mildly surprised to see Mark there.  
  
“Hey,” He said, smiled.  
  
“Hey yourself,” Mark answered, and then he kissed the tip of his teachers nose. “I forgot my book.”  
  
“Can you control your friend a little?” Jaebum asked. “He's saying things he shouldn't be saying.”  
  
“What'chu gonna do about it, teacher?”  
  
“I don't know, spank you?”  
  
Mark giggled, and then felt a sting on his thighs when his teacher hit him there - he looked skinny beaneath all his baggy clothes, but in reality his thighs were relatively round and strong.  
  
“Ouch.”  
  
“Ouch yourself.” Teacher mocked, sticking his tongue out, and in one quick motion he stood up from his chair and Mark was bent over the table, hissing from the sudden pain and impact on his elbows.  
  
He stood there, his front definitely grinding on Mark, slowly.  
  
“The trip is tomorrow,” Jaebum informed. “Did you give your authorization to your tutor?”  
  
“Yes _sir_.”  
  
“Hey,” Jaebum hit his butt this time, it didn´t even feel that sexual. “I liked that.”  
  
“Pervert.”  
  
“Just like you.”  
  
He hit im again, this time holding his shoulders down, this time causing Mark's legs to flinch and bite his lip.  
  
“Look for me,” His teacher said. “When we're there, come look for me.”  
  
Mark nodded, and expecting his teacher to hit him again, he gently rubbed his probably red thighs.

“You´re so cool, teacher.”  
  
Jaebum tried not to remember Youngjae´s words, if only Mark knew what a loser Jaebum really was.

  
  
\--

  
  
Mark didn't actually say anything to Jackson about the matter. They had a silent agreement to stop talking about it in order to preserve their friendship, but Mark knew that they worried and talked about him anyway.  
  
It was fine.  
  
It was fine as it always was when Mark was squeezed between the two, aggressively scribbling in his notebook and sharing earphones with Jinyoung, listening to J.Cole's _Forest Hill Drive_ album, while Jackson was scrolling through his Instagram feed and asking their opinion on how hot _this_ girl or _that_ guy is in their opinion.  
  
“He's cute,” Mark said just when the entire bus fell in silence, and he was sure people started murmuring about it - he would've felt the heat on his cheeks and the nerves in his heartbeat, but teacher turned around from the front-seat and smiled at him, kind of amused.  
  
That made him feel better, so the rest could suck it.  
  
Jackson looked at Jinyoung as if to say “See? I told you so.” but Mark wasn't sure if it was about their teacher, or the hotness of the fitness model on his phone.  
  
Either way, the five hour bus ride passed between naps and laughs, and Jinyoung resting his head on Marks shoulder.  
  
Jinyoung's affection felt familiar, he liked it.  
  
So they arrived at the camping, which was in the middle of a forest with wooden cottages were they were supposed to be in for the next week, the teachers got actual small houses though, much further away from where the students were. Moreover, they were all supposed to share the communal showers, which Mark quickly found out was  _freezing_ and Jackson dramatically announced his sperm cells _probably_ froze and he could never have children now.  
  
After putting their bags in their respective cottages and showering, they were let free for the rest of the day. Naturally, Jackson quickly attacked Mark in the hope of planning to discover the forest with Jinyoung, expecting him to be just as excited about it as he was, because Mark was Mark and Mark always did whatever crazy thing Jackson had planned since childhood days.

But Mark only had one thing on his mind, quickly changing his clothes into a big, black sweater and ripped jeans, brushing his teeth.

"Sorry Jacks, I gotta be somewhere."

Jackson was left absolutely gobsmacked, he looked at Jinyoung, as if he was searching for some moral support, but Jinyoung just shrugged.

"Where do you have to be? a doctors appointment?"

Mark laughed while deciding what shoes to wear. "Don't be silly, we're in the middle of the forest."

"Exactly," Jackson said, stepping in front of him. "We're in the middle of the forest, there you go, you said it yourself."

"Please stop meddling." Mark calmly requested, deciding for his white sneakers.

Jinyoung smacked Jackson's head with a book, and shook his head. Then he got down from the top half of his bunkbed, and sat down next to Mark.

"We thought we could discover the place together, and then go eat." 

Mark smiled apologetically. "Sorry."

Another silence fell between the four wooden walls of the small cottage. Jackson looking at Jinyoung like he was begging him to say something.

"I see," Jinyoung said. "Good to know what your priorities are."

Mark shrugged.

"I'll see you guys at dinner."

"Wai-"

But Mark was already gone. Before Jackson could dramatically curse at him, he was shut in silence over the book that flew across his face, hitting the wall with a very loud thump, and then kicked the bag that was on the floor, scaterring all of the clothing in it across the small space.

"Did you see that?" Jinyoung asked, pointed at the door. "The guy just fucking _left_. Didn't even bother with making excuses, did you see how much he cares about us?"

" _Fuck_ this." Jinyoung said, shouted, clearly not knowing what to do with his anger.  
  
“What are _you_ so mad about?” Jackson asked, genuinely surprised with Jinyoung´s sudden anger.  
  
“Because he just left us to go with that asshole.”  
  
“This is not like you.”  
  
Jinyoung sneered. “Are you saying I´m supposed to be a certain way? What are you, my parents?”  
  
Jackson understood, suddenly. Jinyoung got a phonecall while they were in the shower, and he had been on edge ever since, he guessed he talked to his parents. They never got along, Jinyoung would probably feel like a joke if they ever tried to get along.   
  
“What did they say?” Jackson asked, calmly, patting the bed so Jinyoung could sit there.  
  
Jinyoung sighed.  
  
“Nothing new. My mother found out I stopped going to piano lessons, she promised she'll kill me when I get home.”

Jackson bit his lip. Jinyoungs mother was a true devil queen if he ever met one, she had narcissitic personality disorder. This was blatantly obvious when he met his  his brother, treated like the golden child, and Jinyoung as the scapegoat who received all the attention when his brother left for an elite school - the same elite school Jinyoung was supposed to and could easily get into.  
  
At first, when they were younger, Jackson didn´t believe Jinyoung when he said his mother was crazy, he just assumed Jinyoung never wanted him and Mark over at his house, until they showed up without telling him.  
  
That made things even worse, though, because Jinyoungs mother was extremely nice to them, asking them if they were hungry.  
  
It became a little more evident when Jinyoung was the one cooking for them and his mother, and how clingy she was with them, constantly saying that Jinyoung added too much salt, Jinyoung always wasts so much food, Jinyoung has to go now but feel free to come again, Jinyoung should appreciate friends who can handle him.   
  
It took them a while, but eventually Jinyoung forgave them for their insensitivity. But they became inseperable when they got drunk for the first time, just the three of them when they were fourteen and an older guy bought them a bottle of vodka.  
  
Jinyoung said there was no point in telling an adult, since he was almost one by law, anyway, and they weren't going to take him seriously, ever.  
  
So Jackson hugged Jinyoung.  
  
“And then my father took over the call, and he told me not to make his wife mad.”  
  
He was way used to it, so he changed the subject.  
  
“I don't want Mark to leave us for him - he thinks he can rely on that asshole, but he really can't, adults aren't superheroes.”  
  
“He won't leave us.” Jackson tried, but really, he wasn't sure either.   
  
“Jacks...”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I think I like him.”

Jackson did not know how he felt about that. So he stayed quiet, pretended he didn't hear his friends confession.  
  
  


  
  
\-- 

  
People say that having sex for the first time feels like being reborn a new person. When Jackson lost his virginity, he lost it to an older woman, and when Mark asked him whether he felt different or not, Jackson gave him a big cocky grin saying that now he doesn´t need to jack off anymore.  
  
Mildly scandalized, Mark asked Jinyoung the same question when he lost his virginity to a boy who wasn't even his boyfriend, and who Mark thought was kind of a jackass. His answer was a little more gratifying, saying that he didn't, as a matter of fact, feel any different, but definitely saw sex with different eyes from there on forward.  
  
Mark, curious, even asked his sister, but got a sock to his face before she came to him later that night, trying to be a good older sister explaining the birds and the bees, except Mark already knew about the birds, because had received and given head before, but was always too scared to take it all the way.  
  
Either way, his best answer came from his teacher, a teacher who in the times of Greece was born to be a model in life, an example to their students, give them the instruments to cave their way to enlightenment.  
  
His answer came from his teacher, not talking, but making him _experience_ it.  
  
Mark knocked on the window of his teachers temporary house, and Jaebum quickly noticed, opening it and telling him to get in.  
  
"What did you tell your boys?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
As his teacher closed the big window, he nudged for Mark to sit on the couch - but Mark disobeyed, and instead pinned his teacher to the counter when he turned around.  
  
"You´re so mean to your friends." Jaebum said, grabbing Marks thighs, swinging him over his shoulder and walking towards the couch to dump him on it.  
  
"Forget them," He shrugged, as if Jackson and Jinyoung were woefully unimportant in his life, and like his teacher was all that mattered anymore. "I want _you_."  
  
"Don´t say dangerous things, baby."  
  
And then they kissed, long and hard while the sun was ready to go to sleep, and wake the moon up to take over the night. 

Between the bites and sighs,Mark thought of something, so he stopped his teacher and his teacher looked kind of puzzled.  
  
"Teacher," He started. "What did Socrates thing about losing ones virginity?"  
  
It looked kind of silly on a white leather couch and his teacher propping himself up while Mark was lying down, staring up at him. Now that Mark had the time, he decided that the house was kind of ugly and empty and too white for his liking. Regardless, he really wanted to know.  
  
"Well," Jaebum said, amused. "The ancient Greek philosophers didnt like it, because sex is irrational."  
  
"But what about virginity?"  
  
"It didn´t really cross their minds - virginity wasn't that big of a deal compared to when Christianity took over, unless your swore abstinence, of course."  
  
Mark thus learned nothing about the topic he wanted to know about.  
  
"I mean, many philosophers died as virgins. They just didn't see the point or they just hated women or they hated women and were also closeted homosexuals."  
  
"Like who?"  
  
"Nietzsche. Let me rephrase, the ancient greeks fucked a lot, but they didn´t think you could have sex and be in love at the same time."  
  
Mark hummed.  
  
Jaebum blinked at him, finding the younger adorable lost in his thoughts, so he asked him what was up, and Mark told him all about what Jackson and Jinyoung told him when they had sex for the first time.  
  
"But it´s whatever - kiss me, please."  
  
So his teacher did, again, hard, this time touching him more, letting his hands on his stomach, under the cloth of his white shirt, the other in his hair, pulling it a little, while Mark let the saliva from their kissing run down his chin, and neither found it gross.  
  
He lifted his hips, panted, hoping for some friction with his beautiful teacher on top of him who had beautiful muscles and bone structure - man, his teacher was otherwordly.  
  
Mark always knew his teacher was stunning, but it was the first time he felt so self-conscious about it. What was he compared to him, when he was the exact opposite to his teacher? He was skinny and not very strong, burnt hair and chapped lips and his skin wasn't the best it could be, meanwhile his teacher had perfect skin, and fluffy hair and big broad shoulders that could carry him and the body of a real man.  
  
He wondered if he was just unattractive, for the first time in a long time, letting his anxities get to him when he was with his teacher.  
  
"I wanna do it," He said, absent-mindedly, almost going crazy. "Please, teacher, I want to do it with you."  
  
His teacher gasped, noticing how scared Mark looked, his eyes shut and pleading - he loved it, he wanted to corrupt his body a little more.

"Why?" He asked.

Mark didn't answer.  
  
"Are you a virgin, baby?" 

Again, he didn't answer.   
  
"I'm asking you something, it´s not polite to stay quiet."  
  
"Yes _teacher_." Mark finally admitted. "I´ve only given head before, please don't kick me out."  
  
Teacher pushed his hair back, so he could see Mark better, hand going from his forehead, down to his collarbones, and finally on his chest where he could feel Mark´s thumping heartbeat going faster and faster.  
  
"Of course I won't kick you out because of that," Teacher said, Mark suddenly becoming so much more attractive to him. He wondered how he'd look shivering in pleasure and how he'd sound moaning for the first time.  
  
"Are you sure you want to?" He asked, and Mark nodded aggressively.  
  
"Alright baby," And with that, seeing all the signs of Mark on the verge of an anxiety attack, he kissed him hard so he would forget, forget about all of the worries that plagued his beautiful mind, he dug his nails into his skin making sure _not_ to be careful, because he knew his student didn't like to be treated like a fragile doll. He held him, grabbed like he wanted to, and then he picked him up again, awkwardly, to take him to the bedroom.  
  
"Turn the lights off." Mark pleaded between gasps, Jaebum shook his head.  
  
"No babyboy, I want to see you."  
  
"Oh _please_ teacher, it's so embarrassing."  
  
His teacher kissed his forehead, took his wrists to carefully take them off his face, forcing Mark to look at him.  
  
"It´s okay."  
  
So Mark believed him, two words making his heartbeat slow down, feel his nerves relax, his thoughts finding common ground. His teacher kissed his forehead, his nose, his lips, his neck and jawline, his collarbones, his hands and going down to tug on his shirt.  
  
"Can you take this off for me?"  
  
Mark nodded, word lost on him, and took it off.  
  
His teacher was absolutely in love with his body - his complexion and structure, how soft he felt under his touch.  
  
"You´re so gorgeous, okay? Where's the Mark at who wanted me to spank him in the classroom?"  
  
Mark felt progressively more relaxed, but still couldn't talk.  
  
"I´ll take care of you. I promise."  
  
That's what did it. Irresponsible words he would come to regret later, irresponsible words Mark hung on to whenever it came to his teacher, because his teacher could do no wrong, because his teacher was older thus wiser, because his teacher was responsible and would take responsibility for all of Mark´s fuck-ups, because his teacher was a safe haven who had perfect control of his life, because his teacher was big and smart and knew exactly what to do about himself and Mark.  
  
He wanted his teacher so bad, so bad so bad, he felt like it was some sort of ritual when his teacher stripped him off of his clothes, unbuckled his jeans and pulled them down as he kissed his thighs and calves, as he kept his socks on, as he took him in in nothing but his boxers.  
  
Mark said nothing during the entire thing. Not when his teacher took his shirt off, not when he noticed how much he loved the colour of his skin. Not when he unbuckled his own belt and pulled down his own pants.  
  
He spoke in actions, forcing him down to kiss him again, and when his lips and tongue and teeth attached to his neck, he let himself moan, let himself literally let go.  
  
His teacher palmed his boxers, snapped the rubber against Marks skin.  
  
"Do you touch yourself?"  
  
"Mhmm." Mark nodded.  
  
His teacher smiled. "You'll have to show me sometime."  
  
It all went fast after that - his teacher's lips around his dick, and didn't let Mark put his hand in his hair, as if to tell him that tonight it was about him, but that he shouldn't get used to this somewhat gentleness, he licked and touched until he was hard, and then he asked his little boy if he could do the same to him.  
  
He nodded, and then he pushed Mark roughly back on the bed, head hitting the wall, and then he went for the condom and lube, because he was high on lust, but not so much to risk it.  
  
Fingers here fingers there, Mark had seen it all before but never experienced it first hand, it hurt, it felt funny, he didn´t get it. Then he twisted, and he moaned loud, and he begged his dear dear big teacher to please do it again.  
  
So he did, over and over, and asked him if he was ready for something bigger.  
  
Mark nodded vigorously. "Oh yes, please."  
  
And as if it was some kind of joke played on him, Jaebum suddenly remembered Youngjae, how he looked in Mark´s exact position, how there was never any pleading in their loving, how it was always about him and never about Jaebum. He wondered where he was now, if he thought about him, if he was just sick.  
  
But Mark moaned again, noticing his teacher zone out.  
  
Without saying anything, he went twice as hard, and then he was inside of his student. He looked at him, his breaths so loud he was wondering whether it was another anxiety attack or whether he was just gasping so loud because of the shock of something foreign inside of him.  
  
Mark felt like he was on a bed of feathers when his teacher fucked into him, his senses overwhelmed, his hands grasping the sheets, his teacher quickly gone on lust, too.  
  
If only he knew that as his teacher fucked into him and the feathers were letting go, his teacher´s walls were breaking bit by bit with every moan he let out.  
  
And Jaebum forgot all about Youngjae again.  
  
"Ah, teacher, I´m gonna co-"  
  
So his teacher came right after, loud, the bed creaking.  
  
They were catching their breaths, and Jaebum let himself fall on the bed, leaving Mark to feel empty, but his previous anxiety gone.

His teacher took his virginity, and Mark felt like he took his anxiety with him, too.

Forgetting all about his friends, he was tempted to fall asleep. At least for an hour, and then take a shower. 

Still, in the movies the couple always hugged after sex, and his teacher was not even facing him.

Deciding not to think about it, he tried his best to fall asleep, pretending not to hear his teacher say they should probably clean up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a lot happened in this chapter. Youngjae had enough. Jinyoung has a story. Jinyoung likes Mark. Mark loses his virginity. Jaebum is definitely losing it. This story is heading to its final part yall. How are you liking it?  
> Mark's feelings over Jaebum were close to being obsessive anyway, but after having a taste of sex it's just going to get worse, right?  
> See you next time!!


	10. Theory  Ten.

_"Mark knew Jinyoung, Jinyoung knew Mark, they knew each other, truly knew one another."_

 

-

 

Mark wasn’t an oblivious boy. He was just high on the things he hoped existed. So when he entered the dining hall fourty five minutes too late to the designated hour and found Jackson and Jinyoung by themselves eating the last bits of eggs bread and a soup that definitely did not match with anything else on the menu, he should have felt the tension upon his arrival and the first note of his voice when he announced he was there. He barely noticed it, though, because they were his bestfriends who never let him be alone no matter how angry they were at each other, so he sat down, smiled brightly and hummed happy-go-lucky while the others hitched their breaths.

Jackson continued eating as if he hadn’t even seen Mark, and Jinyoung looked at him kind of funny.

Warning sign number two, Mark took no red lights for it and crossed even when the cafeteria’s volume dropped.

"Man," Mark said. "I’m starving right now."

Jackson coughed.

"There’s no food left - we got some for you but thought you weren’t gonna come anymore...so we ate it instead."

Mark froze up a bit, and it took him exactly four seconds to react and nod enthusiastically just to not let the mood drop, save the sinking boat all, even if he was just one third of the captains who let it crash.

Jinyoung put his chocolate pudding on his tray.

"Thanks, Jinyoung."

"No problem." He responded weakly.

Engulfed in his chocolate pudding, he wanted to ask them what they wanted to do later, but the boys stood up without giving him a chance, and before Mark could realize what they were doing, their trays were already thrown in the bin a few steps away from them, and they waved at him.

"See ya, Mark."

And just when he was processing their words and the actions they left behind which felt like they jumped the boat leaving him alone, and before the feeling of self-dissapointment and confusion could set in the uncomfortable pit of his stomach that made him want to throw up, a juice carton was thrown at him, and Momo and her group of idiots sat around him just when Jackson and Jinyoung shut the cafetaria door.

“So who of them are you sleeping with?” She asked, overly-friendly.

Mark didn’t answer.

“Oh come on, Dani said she saw you walk towards the teachers camp - seems you pissed off Jackson and Jinyoung, huh?”

Then another guy, a guy Mark vaguely remembers being in his maths class, put his arm around him and put his fanta can on his tray like he was a charity case.

“There, you can have it.”

“I don’t want it.” Mark said.

“Don’t be like that. _Take it_.”

Enough of it - Mark stood up, he wasn’t used to this kind of treatment, he was never the most popular, but he was never bullied, either, and couldn’t tell whether this was what was going on or if they were genuinely curious, whatever the case was, he was yanked down from his sleeve back on the seat, the yank exposing his collarbones, the yank exposing the love-bites his classmates saw before he had the chance to discover them himself.

The five surrounding him burst out in loud _ooh’s_ and _aah’s_ and the guys errupted in laughter, like it was the funniest thing they had ever seen, like they were holding it in for years just for this moment, just for Mark, just to put him on the spot in a cafetria of hundred people all turned around looking at him.

“Oh my god, I was just joking - you’re sick.”

Mark bit his lip, humilliated and embarassed, trying his hardest to force himself out of the grip the boy was holding on his wrist, and the pressure the girl next to him put on him by hugging him as if they were friends.

It confused Mark so much, he wanted to cry.

That was the moment where his teacher walked in, swiped him off his feet, told the little kids off and saved the day. That’s what he expected, that’s what was supposed to happen, according to Mark, because he couldn’t handle all this attention by himself, the pressure too immense on his shoulders and heart that put him out of his comfort zone, the laughter echoing through the walls and the room spinning a little.

That’s when he felt two familiar hands on his shoulders and Mark almost gasped in relief.

That’s when he turned around, and instead of his big and manly teacher, it was Jackson and Jinyoung standing on his sides, and the entire table fell silent upon their arrival.

Looking around, his teacher was actually nowhere to be seen.

“Momo - I don’t want to be the one to beat your pretty face up, but I’m sure your brother would love to do the favour.”

Momo frowned, and everyone else scowled.

“Oh shut up, you were kicked off the team, my brother doesn’t even remember you anymore.”

Which was when Jinyoung shoved the two people off of Mark’s shoulders and helped him stand up.

"Pretty sure we talk more than you do, sweetheart."

Ignoring the conflictive murmmuring, the three of them left the cafeteria.

 

–

 

“Nevermind them.” Jackson said, and both of them were holding Marks hand when they walked to their cabin, hands covered by sleeves because it was uncomfortably cold despite the time of the year, Mark guessed it had something to do with it being late and in the middle of a forest and all.

“I’m sorry for leaving you alone.” Jinyoung said.

Mark shook his head. "Not your fault."

The other two sighed.

“We have snacks in our bags and a bottle of ron?” Jackson tried, smiling a bit, and Mark returned it, nodding, holding their hands just a little tigther than before.

Which is how they ended up in their bunk beds, chips on the floor and with luck some in their mouths, and after exactly two shots, Mark sighed frustrated and dug his head under his pillows and kicked his legs around.

"Why do they hate me?" Mark seriously asked, dramatically.

"It’s not you, they hate everyone." Jackson said.

"They even hate each other." Jinyoung finished, rolling his eyes.

"Exactly," Jackson agreed. "Don’t worry. Or like, worry, but don’t worry _too_ much."

Letting himself stand up from his own bed, Jinyoung dropped next to Mark, rolling over his back and hugged him hard, nudging at Jackson to leave them alone for a bit. So he nodded, took his jacket, winked at him.

"Jenny has the chocolate bars - I’ll be right back."

It wasn´t even a lie, because Jenny really did have all the chocolate, and Jackson figured he might get some, anyway, for being a fantastic friend and all. Mark fake-sniffed into his sleeve and he wasn’t sure what of his feelings were embarassment and what was exaggeration - it was always a difficult thing to distinguish when you’re always told your feelings aren’t valid.

“Hey, Mark,” Jinyoung said. “Hey,you know, I heard Momo’s sidekick is gay, I bet he just has a big crush on you.”

He tickled his sides, and Mark giggled, kicking his legs and begging him to _please, stop, Jinyoung, it hurts_.

They rusttled around like that for a few seconds until Jinyoung was on top of him in bed, Mark covering his face with his arms and kicking hoping to hit Jinyoung off the bed, but it wasn’t that simple, because his sole laughter was gasoline potent enough for Jinyoung to continue and face the danger of his too long legs dangling around and potentially kicking him in the face.

“It’s true - who _wouldn’t_ have a crush on you? You’re sweet, funny and _super_ handsome.” Jinyoung insisted, locking Mark in place.

Mark continued to laugh. “Oh please - I’m also too quiet and annoying, Jackson says he’d rather marry a wall than date me for a weekend.”

“Well Jackson is known to have shit taste.” Jinyoung argued a little annoyed, pinching Mark’s ribs again, making him sqawk and damn it, it should have been disgusting how beautiful it actually sounded to him.

“Mercy! _Mercy!_ ” He shouted, until Jinyoung hit a certain spot on top of his belly-button that had him flopping to the side, sweeping Jinyoung with him and having them both fall on the hard wooden floor, this time their positions switched and Mark locking Jinyoung down straddling him.

Mark smiled like it was the crown of his victory.

“You’re unfair.” Jinyoung pouted.

He was. Mark was the most unfair person he had ever met, but Mark didn’t know that yet.

So Jinyoung pointed at his own neck, and Mark assumed he wanted to see the aftermath of his teachers doing.

Completely trusting in Jinyoung, he pulled the collar of his sweater down, and Jinyoung saw the discolered patches on his neck and collarbones.

Jinyoung could’ve yelled, shouted, kicked, complained. But this time, this time he was too tired to do any of that, so he sat straight, put his fingers on them, sliding down to connect the bruises.

“Be careful.” Was all he said, and he looked at Mark, he _really_ looked at Mark. He knew who he was, he knew what music he liked, he knew what kind of life he had. He knew him.

They knew each other.

Which is why he wasn’t afraid to acknowledge that Mark was staring at his lips, which is why he knew that he wasn’t aware that he was doing it, it was also why he noticed that both their breaths sped up a little and it wasn’t just because of their play-fight, it was why he felt the pulse in his neck and why Mark asked him he would, _he would be careful._

Before he could slip out any words, Jackson stormed into the room again, chocolate bars under his sweater like it was a third degree crime, blush on his cheeks as if he had just witnessed a third degree crime.

“Oh, shit, maybe I should leave again.”

Mark sqawked for a third time that day, snapped back to reality and Jinyoung jumped up, letting him fall on the ground.

Minutes later, they were filling plastic cups with ice and ron with coke, eating the cheapest chips from the local supermarket and toasting to their friendship  - His friends sat close to him, they talked about everything and nothing all at once, Jackson’s phone buzzed more often than it usually did, but by the time Jackson was stripped off his inhibitions enough to look annoyed or pleased at the texts coming in, Mark and Jinyoung were too drunk to notice anymore.

Between the cups Mark thought about his teacher a total of three times. The first when they toasted, wondering what toasting with his teacher would feel like, or what they could possibly toast over, the second between the third and fourth cup, wondering what he was doing at the time, and the third time with the third and last shot, wondering why he wasn’t there when he needed him, right before Jinyoung told him it was his turn to drop his cards.

They were playing Uno, and he was with his bestfriends Jackson and Jinyoung.

For the first time in a long time, he was perfectly conscious of where he was, who he was with and why he was there.

 

-

 

By the time morning rose with the sun waking up to take over the shift from the moon, Mark opened his eyes and only then noticed the pool of plastic cups and the stench of alcohol they were in like it was some garbage party  - even so, he was comfortably in his bed, wrapped around blankets, and so were Jinyoung and Jackson in the opposite bunk, so he wasn’t going to be the one to clean it up.

He was woken up by something else, though, which was the knock on their door, and an unwelcomed opening of it, peeking his teachers head, expression somewhat amused and a little disraught with the smell looking in.

“Is it lunchtime already?” Mark asked, whispered.

Jaebum shook his head. “We’re supposed to wake you kids up - want to go for a walk?”

He didn’t have to be asked twice.

And so, in his sweatpants and sweater on, after brushing his teeth, he quietly sneaked out of the cabin without waking his friends up.

“What time is it?”

“Six a.m.” His teacher answered dryly. Mark wasn’t sure at what time they were supposed to wake up, but he definitely did know that he got more or less three hours of sleep.

Mark wanted to tell him about what happened the day before - about Momo and her friends and about how bad he felt throughout it, he wanted his teacher to help him or at least tell him some words of comfort that would make him feel a bit better about it. But he also wanted to tell him about what a great time he had with Jackson and Jinyoung, how good they made him feel and how he wished that he could have been there with him,

Unfortunately, by the time he mustered up a way to word his worries, they reached his teachers house - he looked at the man, a little concerned, that concerned turned to agressiveness and the agressiveness turned to kisses when he was slammed against the door to shut it, his teachers lips on his own, hard, violent unlike the gentleness from the day before.

“Why weren’t you guys at the activities last night?” He asked, feeling up on his thighs his ass and the small of his back.

“I’m sorry.” Mark answered, already feeling his teachers hand on his bulge beneath his sweatpants.

“Sorry doesn’t work in the adult world pretty boy - why weren’t you there? have you been drinking?”

Mark nodded again, sleeve of his sweater covering his mouth.

His teacher sighed, dissapointed, reminiscent of the time Mark couldn’t answer him properly back in school on the wall he and his friends shared - he didn’t like saying anything that would displease him, but the words wouldn’t come out even if he harassed them to.

“That’s no good,” He said. “Use your words.”

Using his words was kind of hard when his teacher was busy kissing him again, palming his hardening dick because god damnit, it was early morning and one taste of the fruit of lust was enough to get you addicted to it - Mark figured. His dear teacher was being a little unfair about it.

“You aren’t a child are you? You can speak can’t you?" His teacher said even more harshly. "Don’t cover your face.”

Nails digging into his sides, his other hand in his sweatpants now, forcing his legs to spread a little.

“I said,” Jaebum grabbed Mark’s arm, agressively pushed it and smacked it against the wall, holding both his wrist and instead putting his knee between his legs, looking at his student’s face from feature to feature, wondering what made him act that way. "I said speak up. I’m your teacher, you should be able to talk to me."

“I’m sorry.” Mark gasped, honestly.

“That’s fine - are you sick?”

Mark shook his head, then moaned from the friction of his teachers knee between his legs, grinding on it shamelessly closing his eyes.

“Did anything bad happen?”

Mark nodded this time, cheeks flushing from the heat. His teacher had him in his grasp now, and he was sure that was exactly what he wanted, deep down.

“Momo and her group of friends were making fun of me.” He said quickly, aiming to kiss his teacher again, but he didn’t let him.

“Momo? And Dani and those people?”

“Yeah.” Mark said, settled to grind on him, instead, until his teacher dropped his wrists and Mark could touch himself instead, needing the friction.

“What’d they say?”

“That I’m disgusting.”

Which was exactly when suddenly, somehow, his teacher had him bent over the kitchen counter from one second to the next, hurting his elbows.

“Is that why you drank?”

Mark shook his head. “Nu-uh teacher, Jackson and Jinyoungie told them off and said I wasn’t disgusting.”

“ _I’m_ telling you that. Did they hurt you?”

He shook his head again. “A little,” He thought about it. “A…little, Am I weird, teacher?”

His teacher smacked his ass, leaving his hands trailing to take his sweatpants off while he had the chance, bunching up his sweater to kiss the arch of his back.

“Of course not. You’re just you.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like there was no bad way to be one self. It comforted Mark.

"Will you let me continue?" He asked.

Mark nodded agressively, and that’s where Jaebum yanked his hair up, forcing him to arch even more, and did exactly what he said he was going to do - fuck the good feelings out of Mark, back arching, Mark scratching his back, biting his shoulder, telling him, especially _telling_ him how great he is, and then just how irresponsible he was, he stuck his fingers in his mouth, felt his own member in Mark’s mouth from his cheeks, and then came up with a safe-word, because everything was about to get a little more dangerous.

Eventually, Mark was left still able to walk, barely, but his throat hurt and when he saw Momo during breakfast, he figured that his teacher’s method worked, because he didn’t feel even a little bit smaller than her, and instead winked at her when she taunted him.

Naturally, she was left embarassed.

 

–

 

Mark guessed this is what they called the sort of enligthenment people felt when they first have sex - not immediately afterwards, but  slow, good poison that takes time to get into the whole body, from his fingertips to his brain, that needed to be fucked out quicker and more often every time. 

During their school activities they learned how to work in teams, and Mark was even put with Momo for reasons he couldn’t quite grasp - she was nice to him whenever he had to speak to her, but kind of ignored him everywhere else, which was fine in Mark’s books, because he didn´t talk to her when he didn’t have to, either.

He found out that she was woefully nice to her actual friends though - offering them to do things in their place and complimenting them whenever they did something right. Mark figured that maybe she had some self-validation issues, so he didn’t hold it against her. Moreover, everytime Mark looked over to the teachers, Jaebum would wink at him as if to tell him he was doing good, and that was enough for him, even when he stumbled over two of the chords he was holding and Dani called him a dumbass for it. He knew that deep inside he didn’t really mean it.

After that activity which took two and a half hours, they were escorted to another hall to have lunch, and Mark used this opportunity to slip out with his teacher for the second time that day, and for the second time that day he ended up between his legs, outside with the dirt on his knees and his teacher against some old rusty red car in the middle of the forest, probably breeding twenty different types of insects. Mark didn´t really care, and by the way his teacher was grabbbing his hair and fucking his throat uncaring for his students comfort, he figured he didn’t mind, either.

They were starting to fuck like bunnies. Jackson and Jinyoung could tell, when he came back and only had cold soup and old bread to eat, his sweatpants muddy by his knees, their teacher looking relaxed talking to the other workers.

Even Jinyoung started to avoid the subject, uncomfortable by it, letting his spoon fall in his soup bowl when Mark showed up twenty minutes later looking absolutely fucked out with his hair sticking in every direction. Jackson, however, was spending more and more time on his phone, and nobody bothered to ask him why.

They reached a grand total of fucking three times that day, the third in the early evening when they were let off duty, and Mark slipped into the teachers house when his friends were in the showers - Mark instead took the luxurious one which actually had warm water and decent soap.

When he came out, he found his teacher in just his boxershorts laying down on his bed in his glasses, biting his finger, and then sitting up straight, hugging Mark and snuggling his nose in the towel around his hips.

“You know what I like about you, Mark?”

“What?” Mark stroked his teachers hair, slightly damp from the shower.

“You aren’t perfect.”

Mark smiled. “But you are.”

That night Mark learned that aphyxiation was something he was into - his head hanging over the edge of his bed, his teachers strong, manly hand around his neck, cutting off the oxygen and making him see the stars while he was sucking on his collarbones.

“You like that?” His teacher asked, but Mark was so high off the endorphins suddenly reaching his brain in a rush that he couldn’t answer, so then he learned that being slapped, on top of being manhandled, was something he was into, too, when his teacher hit him for not answering. “Lost your words again? Fine.”

The walls around him were dark, and the sun was coming down, making the sky a beautiful dead blue painting with no imperfections like clouds in it - His teacher touched him. And that phrase didn´t make him feel weird, as he touched the clouds of the sky of Mark’s body; stretchmarks, discolored spots, and made him feel whole, even when he almost lost consciousness from the hand around his neck.

Only Jaebum heard the door shut loud,  a monitors voice talking to someone, and every fiber of his being told him to stop, that this was dangerous and suddenly not a game anymore, but Mark’s soft gasping kept him going, going inside him, forcing him to wrap his legs around his back, until the door shut again, and Jaebum could breathe, assuming that maybe the monitor was looking for something, since all the aid kits were in the living room. What he didn´t notice however, but Mark definitely did, was the familiarity of a tone hissing in pain, Jaebum lost fucking into his student and his student biting him hard so not to make much noise.

Then, and only then did he feel like what he was doing was a sinful deed for the first time since knowing his teacher - Jinyoungs voice stopping in his tracks, looking straight at him through the peek of the door, startled, like he thought that maybe he was imagining it, band-aid and desinfectant in his hands and all. Until his teacher pressed his fingers on his throat again, until he was grinding into him so slow and painful Mark thought he was actually going to die of the pure bliss, his own hands violently in his teacher hair, and suddenly he couldn´t even see Jinyoung anymore, letting his head fall back, closing his eyes, moaning and mewling. 

“You take me so well for a little  boy who lost his virginity literally yesterday.”

“Only because the man who took it is doing me so good, teacher.” He barely gasped, and then the door smacked closed, loud again, neither of them stopping, but the thump definitely reaching his heart. He wasn´t sure if it was because of his teacher, or the guilt tripping his feet because of Jinyoung.

 

–

 

“Christ  Jinyoung, couldn’t you have taken a little bit longer? I wasn’t done _bleeding_ to _death_ yet.”

“Shut up,” Jinyoung said, sitting down on the bed next to the other. “Please, just _shut up_.”

“What’s wrong?” Jackson asked wincing in pain when Jinyoung put the cotton on his kneecap. He had slipped in the showers, and his right leg was absolutely wrecked with scratches.

“I saw them.” Jinyoung said through gritted teeth, applying too much alcohol and his fingers trembling too much, letting it fall on the bed, just making him even more angry.

Jackson immediately understood.

“He’s responsible for the aid-kits so they told me to go fetch it. The door was open, I heard Mark moaning so loud, so, so loud, and the _fucking_ teacher was choking him in bed.”

Jackson widened his eyes. “He’s into that?”

“ _Not_ the point,” Jinyoung sighed out, rubbing his eyes. “Or maybe that’s _exactly_ the point. I don´t know what’s going through his mind. We should report the teacher, you know?”

“Let´s not do anything harsh yet - you know Mark wouldn’t ever forgive us.” Realizing Jinyoung was too out of it to help him, he grabbed the cotton himself and took care of his knee first.

“Not until he realizes we were right.”

“You want to scream, don’t you?” Jackson asked, pitying. “Seeing your crush like that - it must hurt.”

“It´s not about that. He’s your childhood friend, don’t you feel anything?”

Jackson nodded. “Of course I do, but I think that sometimes people need to realize things themselves, feel things, and not be told that they were going to feel those things, y´know? besides, it doesn’t seem one-sided, and you know that Mark can’t be forced to do anything by anyone.”

“Experience talks.” Jinyoung said, looking at his friend.

Jackson couldn’t help but smile, incredulous. “I can´t get anything past you, can I?”

“Want to talk about it? I might go crazy if I keep thinking about Mark.”

Jackson nodded, carefully cleaning up the wounds on his knee.

“She talked to me.” 

Jinyoung was awestruck, asked him if he was joking.

“You didn’t reply, did you?”

A silence fell over the room, his only answer coming from Jackson’s smile which wasn’t really a smile, but more like a self-reflection that said he didn’t know what exactly he was doing, either.

“You and Mark have gone insane. That is it.”

“Oh c’mon mister _I fell in love with my bestfriend_. She just said she wanted to hang out - it doesn’t mean anything.”

“But you’ve been talking to her non-stop?”

“It´s been a long time, Jin. Unlike you, I give people a second chance.”

“It’s not a second chance, you’re still stuck on your first,” Jinyoung bit back, standing up. “Sunshine, you were in an abusive relationship. That is the truth.”

“Don´t exaggerate.”

“Okay, cool,” Jinyoung nodded, and pointed at his wrist. “Maybe you should talk with your wrist, see if it agrees. Maybe you should ask Mark, I bet he’d _love_ to know that you’re talking to her again.”

“How about,” Jackson said, calmly. “How about you mind your own god damn business?”

“Block her,” Jinyoung demanded. “I swear to god, if you don’t, you and I have a serious problem.”

Jackson shook his head. “You’re not our mother, Jinyoung, when will you realize that?”

Jinyoung sighed.

-

"I really, really like you, teacher." Mark confessed, looking the other way in his teachers bed.

The other nodded. "I know."

"Thank you."

Jaebum did not know exactly what for, but he still rolled over, the two facing opposite directions this time, and noticed his phone blink on the little table next to the bed, next to some cigarettes and a big water bottle - he took it, opened it, and almost hurled over when he saw all the missed calls.

_"6 missed calls from: Youngjae."_

He stood up quickly, turned off his phone completely and told Mark he should probably go back to his cabin before he gets in trouble. Mark didn’t understand why, but between clothes thrown at him and his teacher suddenly looking like he was having a hard time, he was ushered out of the door in mere minutes, just when he realized that he was basically kicked out.

Uncomfortable and prepared to knock on the door again to demand an explanation, his teacher opened it and planted a kiss on his lips right where anyone could see, and told him not to worry about it.

"Something urgent came up, just hurry back before it’s completely dark outside."

So Mark did, the resstlesness in his heart sushed with a kiss.

 

* * *

**A/N What’s good you guys. I kinda went lost for a couple of days mainly because I’m working at a nightclub from 10 to 3 a.m if not more, and although I definitely write on my two days off, I didn’t really feel inspired with this but !!! I’ve settled in now and don’t get as tired anymore so expected quicker updates. As usual, I hope you enjoyed, tell me what you think, this is gonna have 15 chapters in total, more or less.**

 


	11. Chapter Eleven.

_"His teacher wanted to lock him up in his bedroom forever, the thought comforted him endlessly."_

 

-

 

  
Mark had poor school performance as early as the age of seven. Jackson, on the other hand, did extremely well up to middle school until he started slacking off and the fall from all-star grades to an all time low was a fall too hard to climb back up from.  
  
Mark didn’t like to read out loud and Mark had a harder time comprehending new mathematics concepts than the rest of the kids, even among the ‘dumb’ ones. Regardless, his pattern became problematic and grades began to matter - so to dig ten year olds Mark’s self-esteem a little further into the ground, the school recommended he went to after school classes to prepare for the big bad thing known as middle school.  
  
That was when Mark met Jinyoung.  
  
Teachers were trained to notice erratic behavior, but truthfully most of them barely made the effort. Overworked and underpayed, Mark could understand, but Mrs.Harley was different from any teacher he had ever had before and ever had after that. She was unreal, like a character from a cartoon with olive coloured skin and curly hair and long lean legs. Mark never asked her where she was from, but Jackson said that she was obviously Hispanic.  
  
The after school classroom turned into a recreative area where children with problems could figure themselves out and gradually open up to each other.  
  
Put like this, teachers seemed to always have had a big impact on Mark. He didn’t stop to think about it for too long, but if he met Mrs.Harley as she was back then as he is right now, he would probably make a move on her.  
  
Mark quickly stopped himself before the thought got graphic.  
  
There were five kids from the sixth grade in the afterschool classroom and Jinyoung was one of them not because his grades were terrible but because he was new and didn’t talk to absolutely anyone in the two months he was there. Mrs.Harley then asked him small questions like how his soccer game went and Jinyoung slowly started talking by himself about how cool it was.  
  
Their friendship began when Jackson clocked Jinyoung square in the face with a volleyball (accidentally, of course.) and Mark escorted him to make sure his nose wasn’t broken and that he didn’t have permanent eyesight damage. He did so by moving stupidly around the room wiggling his arms around and asking him if he could see him.  
  
“How many fingers do I have up?” He’d shout from the other side of the classroom.  
  
“Do your toes count?”  
  
“What?”  
  
And then Jinyoung jumped him, making Mark fall on the ground and his legs dangling with the impact of small Jinyoung on him. It was stupid and made no sense and was completely out of character for the two problem children, but the glass was broken and they ended up with even more bruises, and that was signals of development, until Mrs.Harley got fired for reasons no one understood, and Mark never made the effort to seek contact anymore. He regretted that the older he got.  
  
With cuts Jackson took care of, the three of them became inseparable. Jinyoung was forced on the path to perfection he let go off with the others, Jackson kept on being the free spirit he was born to become, and Mark felt like he played an almost stagnant role in the group that he felt didn’t really have a room for him to complain in, even if he did so a lot.  
  
They were pretty primary school memories that Mark didn’t cherish until he was fucked out on his teachers bed and his friendship with the others was feeling both stronger and more fragile than ever before.  
  
It’s funny how things come back to you.

  
  
-

  
It was the nail that hit the coffin, their friendship was never ever going to be the same anymore, and Jackson wondered if it was just the course of life or if it could have been avoided somehow.  
  
He doesn’t think it could have, though, because none of them made a real effort to glue them back together, so even if there was an alternative or a way to avoid it, they didn’t really care enough to find it. Jackson admitted this, sitting in the middle of the cabin bed, his bags already done and the room perfectly clean except for Mark’s top bunk.  
  
Mark had come back, and Jinyoung told him that Jackson was talking to his ex-girlfriend, like a zombie of sorts, Mark said Jackson is adult enough to know what he’s getting himself into. Truthfully, Jackson didn’t feel man enough at all to do much of anything.  
  
They were tired, and couldn’t handle each others problems any more like they did when they were children.  
  
“Jackson, you know how I said I wanted to go to USC with you?”  
  
Jackson nodded sitting in yoga position and looking at Jinyoung on the bed in front of him. He held his breath.  
  
“Well, I think I’m going to retake the special classes and aim for Stanford again, y’know, I need to think about my future.”  
  
Jackson gulped, then nodded again. Jinyoung didn’t mean what he said and he didn’t want to go to the elite at all, but for the first time in a long time, Jackson felt like he had no right to meddle into his life anymore.  
  
He was already one step out of it, anyway.

  
  
-

  
  
It was as if all Jaebum could see was the excessively bright light on his telephone screen, slouched on the couch watching the clock of the phone tick up till it was time they could go back to Seoul, his fingernails chewed and gross, and him only realizing they looked like that when he looked at them.  
  
Six missed calls from Youngjae. There were six miss calls from Youngjae.  
  
The phone lit up for a seventh time, and Jaebum’s heart sped up with each passing second of the _ring-ring-ring_ and he felt cold sweat on his forehead, thumb in mouth and his bare feet over each other on the leather couch with the background of forest mist.  
  
Call incoming, name Youngjae. He took too long to sweep before the line hung up, and this time Jaebum himself stood up and ran towards the bathroom, feeling like he couldn’t breath well suddenly, like the oxygen short-circuited in his veins and didn’t reach the lungs which needed it so much.  
  
He yelped, turned around and stared at the kicked-in broken door from the bathroom and wondered who did it for it to be that beat up. It didn’t matter. Jaebum briefly wondered if he heard Mark coming in, but the ring on his phone snapped him out of his imagination and then he swiped and gulped and did not know what to say.  
  
“J-Jaebum?”  
  
It was Youngjae. It was Youngjae and his voice was mellow like honey and Jaebum felt all of his nerves relax with the tone like magic. No, he hadn’t kicked the dent in and Mark, his little student Mark was not in the house.  
  
“Youngjae?” Jaebum almost squealed. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Youngjae audibly sighed out in relief.  
  
“Christ, I thought you blocked me for good.”  
  
“We’re in the forest, the calls wouldn’t get through, dummy.” Jaebum laughed softly.  
  
“Right, right,“ He paused. “Hey, how are things going?”  
  
Jaebum did not have the strength to lie to Youngjae any longer, so he told him he did not know anymore, told him he felt like he was losing it.  
  
“Come back,” Youngjae said. “Jae, come back home and let’s go see a counselor.”  
  
To his surprise, Jaebum kept quiet, so he continued.  
  
“I know you say your dependence on Mark has nothing to do with what happened, but this has gone on for too long.”  
  
“I’m too old to see anyone, Youngjae.”  
  
Shocked but happy that Jaebum was listening to him in the first place, this soft resistance was not enough to stop Youngjae. “This problem has been around ever since you were a teenager, I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you then, but I want to be there when someone can.”  
  
Jaebum did not want to hear any of that. “I miss you.”  
  
“You’ll be home soon.”  
  
“Will you be there?”  
  
Jaebum could almost hear Youngjae smile on the other end.  
  
“I’ll be there if you’ll go see someone for me.”  
  
“I’ll think about it.”  
  
“Don’t think about it too much, that was never your strong point.”  
  
Jaebum sighed. “Alright. Youngjae?” He paused. “Thank you.”  
  
Youngjae gasped, but Jaebum assumed it was just a fault in the line and Youngjae remained passive as he had always been, so when Youngjae said, "thank you, too.” Jaebum was convinced it was part of his imagination, just like everything else had been for the past few months.

  
  
-

  
  
Jinyoung was convinced the world was testing him. Otherwise he wouldn’t have ended up in the thermal baths at the same as Mark was already deeply soaked and the steam making his cheeks pink when he walked in, much less would they be the only people there at the time.  
  
Mark noticed him quickly. “Jinyoungie,” He smiled. “I knew you’d come at this time.”  
  
Jinyoung frowned at him and was tempted to make a joke about Mark stalking him around to know that, but he kept it to himself and tested the waters with his toes instead. It was boiling, Mark giggled at him.  
  
“What are you laughing at, punk?” So he flicked some water at his face, Mark remained unimpressed.  
  
“Just get in, I need to speak to you.”  
  
“So, talk.” Jinyoung insisted, getting down in the water and sitting on a rock next to Mark, who seemed relaxed and happy and it almost made him feel bad to hate the reason why he looked like that.  
  
Mark gave him a long, cheeky look that meant nothing good and Jinyoung felt scared. That was, until Mark laughed loud and his boisterous sound echoed between the empty walls. Jinyoung fell a little bit in love.  
  
“You should see yourself, Jinyongie,” Mark said. “I was just playing with you, there’s nothing important, I just wanted to see you.”  
  
The butterflies in his stomach made him want to throw up.  
  
“Jeez, here I was thinking you got yourself pregnant.”  
  
Mark giggled again, putting his head on Jinyoung’s shoulder and Jinyoung hoped he didn’t notice how his muscles tensed up with the touch or the linger of Mark’s fingers up and down his biceps.  
  
“Let’s never stop being friends, alright?”  
  
“Why are you so fluffy suddenly, Mark?” He knew why and maybe Jinyoung was a bit of a masochist to ask regardless, still the sting of his words was remarkable.  
  
“You noticed? They do say sex gives you a different vibe and all,” Mark seemed to think about it, sitting straight and looking at his own arms. “Though you seem this way all the time and from what I know you haven’t slept with anyone here, right?”  
  
“Who did you sleep with?” Jinyoung hit his head back on the rock trying to lean on it but he got a newfound headache at best from the impact, Mark noticed and quickly massaged his scalp.  
  
“That was really dumb of you.” Mark concluded, and even Jinyoung decided to wash away his worries while Mark applied soap to his hair and he could feel his heartbeat and heat of his chest on his back.  
  
They sat like that for a good twenty minutes, twenty minutes in which Mark thought mostly about what his teacher was doing, but also remembering when he washed Jinyoung’s hair back in primary school, too, because his arm was broken after he fell from a staircase.  
  
“It was Jackson’s fault,” Jinyoung moaned, remembering it clearly. “He pushed me off while playing hide and seek!”  
  
Mark giggled at the thought. “It’s always Jackson’s fault, he used to be so wild, nobody could stop him.”  
  
“Ain’t that the truth,” Jinyoung sighed, letting his head fall fully on Mark’s lap, and Mark pouted because he was having fun making a mohawk out of Jinyoung’s hair with the soap he was using.  
  
“You destroyed my masterpiece.”  
  
Jinyoung smiled. “Am I your masterpiece?”  
  
“Didn’t realize I was washing _Jackson-pick-up-line-Wan_ g, sorry, I only wash Jinyoung’s hair.”  
  
Jinyoung looked away bashfully, blaming the pink tone of his cheeks on the heat of the bath, and then a teacher walked saying they were going to close up very soon, so whoever was left inside should finish up whatever they were doing.  
  
Mark looked at Jinyoung mischievously. “Should we stay in here without them realizing?”  
  
“Sex really does change a person, where’s Mark who would’ve had nine panic attacks by now?”  
  
Mark thought about it. “I’ve always been like this with you, Jinyoung,” Jinyoung’s heart skipped a beat. “And Jackson, of course!” He added, and then hopped out of the water to pick up his yellow towel, realizing Jinyoung didn’t bring his, and as soon as this one got out of the water aswell, he quickly dried his hair for him.  
  
“You seem out of it, what’s wrong?”  
  
Blame it on the heat and blame it on the fact that maybe he didn’t think twice like should have in these kind of situations, but he took a good eyeful of Mark, all blonde hair, brown eyes tan skin and long limbs Mark, and let out a long sigh - then opened his mouth.  
  
“ _You’re_ wrong.” Jinyoung said sincerely, but of course, Mark, a little more childish than before, took it as a pun and a joke, and twirled on his feet to go to the lockers and put his clothes on.  
  
Jinyoung was going to lose it.

  
  
-

 

Yes, yes. Jinyoung was definitely going to lose it - it was because of the way Mark was talking about his dear teacher that made him do it, and it was partially because Mark would walk close to him that made him go a little bit crazy. 

They were outside, sweaters fluffy on their body and feeling clean and fruitful, Mark turned around to face Jinyoung and said he was going to go see his teacher for a while before heading back to Seoul before promising they’d sit together on the bus if the three seats in the back were already occupied. Jinyoung was not a very impulsive boy, but seeing Mark leave towards something that was obviously doing him wrong made him re-think if he really wasn’t as impulsive a he thought he was.

So with their hair damp and messy, Jinyoung held his breath, coutned till three, and then held Mark’s wrist when he turned around. 

Mark looked at him, then looked at their hands, and then he tried to force himself out of Jinyoung’s grip. When Mark looked seriously hurt by Jinyoungs force and even though Jinyoung should have let go of him then and there, he held him even harder, smacked him against the wall behind him and gave him another long, pained look.

He looked at Mark’s nose Mark’s mole under his eyes and he looked at his entire figure which was so slim and pretty to Jinyoung.

"What’s wrong, Jinyoung?" Jinyoung didn’t hear him. "You’re hurting me - let go."  
  
He couldn’t hold it in any longer, he was not sure how long the bomb was ticking for but he knew it was going to explode at that moment, and in typical Jinyoung fashion, he was going to hurt Mark in the process of it instead of evacuating him and keep the hurt to himself. Jinyoung was tired of keeping the hurt to himself.  
  
So he did it, no remorse, a lot of courage.  
  
“Mark-” He stuttered, then he stuttered again. “I like you.” He thought about it. “I like you so much, I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Thinking back on it, it was totally random and he should have elaborated more on what was truly worrying, but Mark looked mortified when he forced himself out of JInyoung’s grip of his nails digging into his skin, which caused for Jinyoung to accidentally scratch his arm when he flinched and Mark hissed in pain. Mark looked at him lost, opened and closed his mouth like he was going to say something or ask if he was practicing his acting on him, but then he pushed him hard in one go like he didn’t think about it all, like Jinyoung could have tripped and broken his neck and Mark wouldn’t have cared at all.

So falling down on the dirt and the grass and his hands muddy and gross, Jinyoung watched Mark run away and the words fell dead on his tongue as his figure dissapeared into the mist. 

He didn’t even have it in him to cry about it.

  
  
-

  
  
The walk from the stalls to the teachers zone felt like an eternity and a half and the mist was so thick and heavy, he could feel it fill up his lungs in a way that made it hard to breath in, harder than it normally already was, and his feet wouldn’t respond like he wanted them to with how slow he was walking even thought he wanted to run till his legs gave out.  
  
Despite that, he was still a panting mess when he reached his teachers door, forehead sweaty and the bath from before being to naught in more ways than one. He jumped into his teachers arms, kissing him on the lips for anyone to see the second he opened the door.  
  
“What are you doing?” Teacher Jaebum said, smacking the door closed as fast as he could, then eyeing down his student who seemed to be panting a little harder than normal. “Calm down, baby.”  
  
Mark shook his head, he shook his head once and twice and thrice and then let himself fall down against the door and bury his face in his hand in something he was not sure was embarrassment or sadness.  
  
“Oh, teacher, I don’t know what to do.” He said, and teacher got down on his knees to pat his head and mutter sweet things to him in the hope he would calm down, the words turned to kisses and the kisses turned to his teacher putting his hands up his students shirt, and then on his back, and it was like Mark’s anxiety passed on to his teacher, because he held him tighter with the second.  
  
“Sweetheart, tell me what’s wrong.” He almost pleaded, Mark sniffed and awkwardly wiped his nose with the sleeve of his teachers shirt.  
  
“Jinyoungie said something mean about you.” He admitted, and leaned in to kiss his teacher, who kissed him back.   
  
Jaebum continued to kiss him, wanted to tell him Youngjae said something about Mark too, and the he briefly felt like nobody really understood them but themselves, like their reaction was worse than their relationship was. Jaebum looked at Mark, sniffing up his tears, and then he kissed him, and kissed him again, and he didn’t answer him like he normally would, and he couldn’t think of any philosopher who was in this kind of situation, so Jaebum had no one to believe.

The longer he kissed his student - his kisses which were messy and too wet and desperate - the angrier he got and the more he sinked into him, the more he sinked into his fantasies of being the bigger man in the situation. He knew it was wrong, he began to realize that. He knew Mark didn’t know him. No, no, Mark didn’t know him, but his little student was going through a bad time, and if his teacher was what he needed as a sort of a pacifier to his person, then Jaebum was damn sure going to be it, and fall into a sub-reality himself.

He didn’t realize it when Mark held his hand and kissed his fingers, only realizing it when he was sucking on his thumb and Jaebum sweeped him up in a quick motion towards the bedroom - the floor was hard, the open kitchen had an open window and if anyone looked through it, they’d find a student sucking on a teachers fingers.

So they fell on the bed, big, fluffy bed, and Jaebum put his head on Mark’s chest and inhaled deeply, hugging him hard.

"You make everything so much better," Teacher said, wished he could stay like that forever and ever. "I just want to lock you up and keep you in my bed."

Mark brushed his teachers hair, softly, taking the knots out with fingers and loving the scent of his shampoo. They laid down in that position for a while, Mark obsessively driving the thoughts of Jinyoung away and falling into the thoughts of his teacher instead, unknowing of the fact his teacher was doing the same thing.  
  
He kissed his head, stroked his teachers cheek.

"Lock me up, then."

His heart, their hearts were a little more at ease again, beating at a normal pace, their bodies interwined in the middle of the forest on a misty, cloudy day in which it seemed like it was going to rain at any second.

That was, until the clocked ticked eight p.m, and they knew they had to leave to go back to Seoul.

* * *

**AN It has been 99 years but I will finish this I s2g it’s almost finished**

**Not a lot happened in this chapter, but even so, what did you guys think?? I’ll try and update real soon, thank you !!!!!**

**Also !!!! I wrote a oneshot I’m actually proud of (shameless promo) it’s called _From Lyon, With Love_ and also writing this JJP fic lol. And I’ve been reading a lot of fanfics lately and want to collect them all for a big recommendation list. And, uh, that’s what’s up.**

 


	12. Chapter Twelve.

_"He was both the water drowning him and the oxygen tank keeping him alive."_

-

  
Mark walked with tappy feet in his house, big bag hung over his shoulder and the thump-thump-thump of the floor seemingly being the only noise in the house - not expecting anyone to be home on a nine p.m Monday, he swung the door wide open and made his way towards the room after kicking his shoes off, but not before a voice called him out from the kitchen.  
  
Mark briefly thought it was a killer on the loose and he immensely regretted laughing at his sisters suggestion of keeping a baseball bat in the living room just in case anything, - anything like _this_ \- was going to happen. It was bound to happen, she said, and apparently that was the moment so Mark clenched his hands in fists and shut his eyes waiting for some type of impact tensing up his shoulders for preparation, 

Until his father walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands with the kitchen rag and looking at Mark.  
  
“Dad?” Mark almost tripped over air from the surprise. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work? Where’s Jessica?”  
  
“Aren’t I allowed to be in my own house?” His father replied nudging him towards the kitchen. Normally, Mark would want nothing more but to make sweet sweet love to his bed (hug the pillows and knock himself out for the next twelve hours, that is) but he still willingly followed his father into the kitchen since it was so odd to see him around the house, anyway.

Mark felt homesick while being home, it was a contradiction he was used to.  
  
“I’ll do that -” Mark said, putting his bag on the table and rushing towards the counter to clean up the dishes.

Silence fell upon the house, the flow of the faucet being a relaxing song even if Mark’s hands were going to burn and hurt and scab from the heat.

His father sighed, sitting down and hissing in pain as he watched his son excruciatingly rub off the leftovers on the plate which were almost stuck on the ceramics, courtesy of nobody ever washing the plates after eating avocado or pancakes with syrup.  
  
“I fell the other day so my back hurts!" He explained.  "They gave me a week off.” 

Mark hummed and told him it was the first time in years he had asked for a day off, saying he should do it more often now that he’s getting older. His father looked scandalized and insulted at the mere suggestion, saying that his kids will forever keep him young.  
  
“How was the trip?” He asked.  
  
Mark tensed up a little bit with the question. He thought about it - the road back was not nearly as awkward as he expected it to be, because Jinyoung isolated himself from Jackson and himself on his own accord, sitting with one of the jocks he knew for a fact he did not like instead. Jackson talked to him like he normally did, but Mark knew they were all actively avoiding talking about what happened, and he had the feeling that Jinyoung explicitly asked Jackson to pretend like everything was a-ok. Which perhaps it should have been. But it wasn’t.  
  
_It was alright,_ Mark eventually answered, liking the warmth of the water on his hands.  
  
“And how are the boys doing?”

Mark considered lying when he had never lied to his father before. It was easy though, because his father never really asked him about him, either. It was an odd situation and a pinch to be in, so he sighed out loud and put the last plate to dry on top of the towel.   
  
“We had a little fight.” He said, and sat down next to his dad.  
  
His father nodded understandingly. Mark did not think he actually understood.  “It happens - if you’re real friends, you’ll fix it eventually.” then he added. “I’m proud of you, Mark.”  
  
It came out of nowhere, and Mark felt like bawling his eyes out for a couple of moments before he noticed that his father was wincing in his backpain and he wondered what he could do to help alleviate it. A hot compress, perhaps. He yearned for Jessica who was was in medical school and could probably fix up some type of work out for their father to do. He felt useless, and with the feeling came dissapointment in himself.  
  
“Jessica is out with her boyfriend - he’s a little charmer.” His father joked, and Mark smiled because yes, Jessica’s boyfriend was the greasiest, most impressive one she has had _yet_ and always brought their father a gift whenever he came over and even called Mark ’bro’ - Mark thought it was very funny.  
  
“Was he like you then?” Mark teased, sitting back and letting himself relax. He was happy talking with his father, his father who he had never really talked to because of his work he’d apologize for when he and his sister were a lot younger. Thought that might have just been his bedtime imagination. Mark was never sure.  
  
“Aren’t you brave?” He laughed. “What about you? So father so son they say? Do you have a boyfriend?”  
  
“It’s weird,” Mark freely admitted, looking up the ceiling. “It’s _really_ weird.”  
  
It really was. His father knew Mark was attracted to guys ever since he was a kid. He catched the hints, read the _how-to-know-if-your-son-is-gay_ internet pages, and caught him kissing Jackson without context (it was a dare to impress the girl Jackson crushed on at the time) and when he came around to tell him that he might have a boyfriend, his father laughed hard, clicked open a can of beer and gave him a long chat about treating right and being treated right.  
  
“I’ve heard _that_ before,” His father sighed, bending over to grab two cans of beer. “Do you want one?”  
  
“I don’t drink.” Mark said with the best straight face he could muster up. His father gave him a no-bullshit look and he deemed it appropriate to take the can, anyway. “Were things weird with mom then?”  
  
“No,” His father took a sip. “Your mom _was_ a weird one. But _things_ weren’t weird. It was the second time I fell in love and you were seven years old already.”  
  
Mark looked at him interested.   
  
“She was a teacher from the university I worked at,” His father was a technician for many ivy league schools. "Literature I believe," he paused. "Not that I ever talked to her. We just stood in the same line every morning to buy coffee."   
  
“So you were in love but never talked to her?”  
  
“Later it turned out she was in a relationship with one of the minor students, so she left before I could ask her on a date.”  
  
Mark thought about it  - imagining it  step by step as his father rambled on about the literature professor he fell in love with despite not knowing her at all. He wondered how anyone could fall in love without knowing the person, and thought about how his father acted around her - whether he was awkward or acted cool in front of her, if he got flustered at things like her hair tied up in a bun exposing her neck, things like if he noticed the small things like the colour of her nails like he noticed the things like the brand of coffee his teacher used. He thought about himself, seven years old and oblivious of his father's childish crush.

He looked at him as if he was expecting Mark to say something. "That's bad," He said. "That she was with a student, I mean." 

Oh, wait.

He crossed his legs by instinct and banged his knees against the table at the attempt. His father nodded.

"I was so shocked I kept the article to this day, it was on the front page of a national newspaper. The kid's name never got revealed though since he was a minor after all, and Andrea only held a handful of interviews after that, but if you really wanted to find out you could probably narrow it down by looking at the classes she taught that year," He shrugged. "Not sure why they never went after the kid though. You'd think America would that love that kind of sensationalism - it's getting late, I'm going to sleep."  
  
"Alright, dad," Mark said. "Love you."  
  
"Love you too."

Which was when he was left with nothing but the sound of drips from the faucet and a churning feeling in the pit of his tummy like he was going to throw up even though he hadn't eaten a lot that day. He did know the reason for this, but the restlessness followed him through like a shadow into the next morning, and you could see it from his messy hair and the choice of wearing a dirty, paint stained sweater to school.

  
  
-

 

The unsettling restlessness and fidgety anxiety bristled through in his mind like the wind bristled the trees. The rain was pouring and it was pouring hard when it shouldn't have been that way and he felt like the rain was going to slip its way into his apartment, and Jaebum felt like he was at the edge of suffocating and dying of it as a consequence  if he did not get out of there soon.

The couch felt like a blotch which was sucking into its belly, deep deep into it not letting him get off of it. Which he hadn't done for the past couple of hours, hands shaking uncontrollably, hands taking off his sweater because he was feeling so, _so_ hot with the cold sweat on his forehead and nape making sure he was going to get the flu the next day. 

Which was when Youngjae opened the door, and with that Jaebum felt like Youngjae had openened the window for the water to pour out of it in buckets, letting him breathe again.

"Youngjae -" Jaebum clawed his own arms, and just like the water, his words poured out of his lungs, too. "Youngjae it _hurts_."

Youngjae did not asked what hurt. Nor did he ask why he was hurting. Instead, he drew circles on his backs, hushing him with it's-gonna-be-alrights and I'm-here-for-yous, counting his breaths as they ranged from shallow to mellow and from mellow to shallow back and forth. Only twenty minutes later did Jaebum let go of his own arms, nail prints stabbed into his skin which turned red.

Jaebum tried to recover, tried to remember what he did before becoming a panting, hot and anxious mess drowning in his own apartment.

He came home, yes, yes he came home from the trip, it was around ten p.m and he sat down on the couch to watch a movie after taking a shower to get his mind off of many things. Most of those things to do with Mark, a little less of those things to do with Youngjae, when he fell asleep in the middle of the movie, and when he woke up he felt like fishes were swimming around him and he felt like the nightmare misplaced himself when he was awake rather than asleep.

  
"I've been doing something really, really bad."

Youngjae hushed him as Jaebum on the verge of crying. He was not sure why the realization hit him like a brick on a glass floor in that particular moment - maybe it was the sight of Mark and his friends being separated with a clear dunk in their relationship _because of him_. Maybe it had something to do with the season and the timing.

Perhaps it was years of being on both ends of the Lolita complex.

It was the years of being on both ends of the Lolita complex. But nobody could tell him it wasn't worth it when he heard Mark calling him 'big' and 'great' wearing his oversized, paint stained sweater.  
  
Youngjae kissed his head. "You're realizing it."  
  
He didn't say if it was good or bad that he did, all Jaebum knew for sure that it hurt and the pain in his chest was physical, the tears in his eyes provoking a headache and while his breathing evened out, was still exhaled in shudders every couple of seconds.  
  
"Is it really that wrong?" Jaebum needed to know, looking up to Youngjae. "Is it?"  
  
"He's a child." Youngjae declared, hand on his shoulder tensing up with the question. "A child who doesn't know you."  
  
He's a child, a child who doesn't know you.

Jaebum froze, the smoke cleared out and the mirrors cracked. Really, Jaebum didn't think there was water left in his lungs when he ran towards the bathroom to throw up, but it was all that came out, pouring and pouring out.

  
  
-

 

It was the grayest spring in the history of California up till then, and it was the thunderstorms, rain, big suede shirts with sweaterpaws and dark clouds which Mark was going to forever associate with his senior year walking through the hallways on the second floor heading towards the chemistry lab. Three months had passed since he met his teacher, those were the only three months they didn't know they had.

While Mark rushed through the crowd towards the lab, he bumped into a man much bigger than himself with broad shoulders and piercings in both his ears, wearing a leather jacket which could not have been comfortable in any way regarding the weather, but Mark did not complain because he looked wickedly gorgeous in it. 

It was his teacher. It was his favourite teacher.  
  
"Mark," His teacher sounded like he was out of breath. Mark looked up to him. "You still need to give me the Freud essay. It's been overdue, you know?"  
  
"Thought you'd give me a pass."  
  
Jaebum smirked. "Think again, kid."  
  
And with a ruffle of his hair, his teacher disappeared into the mass in the hallway holding his books, and Mark only knew he was smiling as dumbly as he was when Jackson pointed it out to him, half-asleep in the history classroom.  
  
"Talk to Jinyoung." Jackson said.  
  
Mark was definitely not going to talk to Jinyoung.

  
  
-

  
  
Jinyoung and Jackson were the only ones in the computer room because their teacher hadn’t come and Jackson had forgotten his student ID so he couldn't leave the school - Jinyoung, being the good friend he was, stayed behind with him and they locked themselves up in the computer room so one one could interrupt them and force them to study for their upcoming midterms. They hadn't made up per sé, but they weren't talking about it. Jackson had a date with his ex the night before and apparently it went really well, because it was all he talked about.  
  
"So she told me she didn't _really_ want to break u- hey, are you listening?"

Jinyoung was not listening. Not because he didn't care but because he already knew. So he was leaning with his head on the computer table scrolling dumbly through his feed until he lazily typed Im Jaebum's name in the Google engines.

Jackson was astonished to say the least, cutting his story in the middle of it to tell him, "Stop obsessing so much, Jinyoung."

"Sorry," And Jinyoung genuinely looked like he wass. "But I just can't shake the feeling off that he's bad, you know?"

"You mean apart from the fact that he's banging his student?" Jackson sighed, shuffling closer to the screen and put his hand on top of JInyoung's. "Listen, if nothing comes out of this search of yours, I want you to leave them alone for your sake."

Jinyoung was about to complain about _being a good friend_ and _having good intentions_ and that _they could easily report Jaebum to the police_ even if Mark would hate them forever for it, but he saw the earnestness and worry in Jackson's eyes, and even stubborn Jinyoung understood that he should listen to him.  
  
So he nodded, conceded. If nothing was going to come out of it, he was going to leave it at that despite his best intentions and Mark would have to figure himself out when he needed it, and they'd be there for him when the time would inevitably come. He nodded to himself. This wasn't about Jinyoung, this was about Mark.  
  
So with a newfound anxiety in his stomach he typed in his teachers name, and the internet seemed to be playing with the both of them when Jackson gulped and it took longer to load than usual. That was, until the results appeared.  
  
Jinyoung skimmed through the first page quickly - there were a couple of interviews and profiles but nothing which immediately caught his attention. Jackson sighed out loud and was about to tell Jinyoung to give up when he re-read the third result.  
  
_"Oxford Graduate Class - Philosophy."_  
  
Jackson screeched. "That fool graduated from Oxford?" He shook Jinyoung's shoulder."Shit, no wonder he's fucking weird - majoring in philosophy in _Oxford_ and graduating before turning twenty four?"  
  
"Shut up, Jackson." Jinyoung shrugged his hand off, but quickly pressed the page with an jeering smile creeping on his face. Surely, it was a picture of the graduate class and in the third row, fourth person was Im Jaebum, aged twenty three and looking more boyish than what they knew him for, even though it was nothing more than just three years ago.  
  
"Still, I don't know why we're happy when it doesn't really say anything we _need_ to know."  
  
Jinyoung was not listening, and instead typed up the graduation year and searched on Google for a second time - which was when the smile grew into a full grin and he clapped his hands in glee shoving Jackson from side to side to show him the results.  
  
_"Oxford teacher pleads guilty to sexual relationship with minor."_  
  
_"Oxford under fire after sex allegation with minor."_

 _"Oxford scandal resparks debate over age of consent and position of authority."_  
  
"You're tripping," Jackson said, scrolling through the many articles in which the woman appeared. The newest one was three months ago, titled _'Oxford Sex Scandal Case Still Unconvicted, A Decade Later.'_  
  
"You think this is about Jaebum? We don't have nearly enough proof."  
  
"It's his graduate class. She was a literature professor and if it wasn't him then he at least lived close to the scandal," Jinyoung reasoned. "If we dig up some more stuff, I'm sure we can find more solid proof."  
  
"And what do we do with that?" Jackson asked, looking at the picture of the woman leaving one of the many Oxford buildings next to another imaged of a blurred out student ID, black hair recognizable. "I mean, will it really make a difference?"  
  
"It might explain his behavior, and Mark might put things in perspective," He said, packing up his bag. "If their relationship should continue, he should know this, right?."  
  
Jackson sat back, looking at the ceiling. "Yeah," He said. "This went from zero to hundred real quick."

Jinyoung was esctatic. "Listen, we should both look for info and tomorrow we'll organize what we have and tell Mark about it. If things go bad, we even have a basis to build a case against Jaebum if Mark wants to report him after all."

"Don't you feel bad for the teacher?" Jackson pondered. "I mean, at first I thought he was sick but maybe he has a bit of a complex? you know, mirroring what his teacher did and projecting himself on Mark, perhaps?"

"If I start thinking about that," Jinyoung sighed. "If I start thinking about that, I'll lose my mind, so I'd rather see him as the bad guy."

"Of course Mark is much more important than the teacher is, but I don't feel good insulting him now."

"Jackson," Jinyoung zipped up his bag. "Whatever it is, stay objective."

"If anything I'm being more objective than you." Jackson said. "But sure, I'll play along."

Which was the exact moment when the bell rang and a teacher banged the door angrily, shouting at them to get out.

 

  
-

 

Mark was blind for his teacher, and so could not see the person behind that title. It was not until he slipped and banged his head against the concrete till he found this out, and the blood was already pooling around him and vague sounds of ambulance sirens could be heard from a very, very far away distance. Which was when he arrived at the already familiar doorstep of his teacher's apartment, clothes soppy and his beat up bag hanging around one shoulder. 

"Hey." His teacher said, and opened the door for his student, telling him to sit down on the couch.

Mark rubbed his hands and could hear the high-pitched hissing of the tea pot in the kitchen, higher and higher till it was almost deafening and it was the only thing he could hear apart from the ticking of the clock. Tick, tick, tick, his teacher did not talk to him, he did not talk to his teacher. Mark was blissfully unaware of everything but the feeling in his tummy.

Jaebum sat down, not next to him but in front of him, putting both chamomille teas down on the coffee table.

"I think I'm gonna make up with Youngjae." Jaebum said, fingering the rim of the cup.

Mark gulped. "Uh, I'm sure you still want to be friends with him."

His teacher shook his head, sighed, sat back and looked at Mark for a good couple of seconds, his knees awkwardly stuck together and him desperately trying to cover up his body with the oversized sweater, kneading the sleeves of it.

"I need to talk to you."

"So," Mark giggled. "Talk to me, _teacher._ "

His teacher was staring right into his soul at that moment.

"I'm sorry," Jaebum said, voice hoarse. "It's all my fault, I'm sorry." He looked away.

Which was when Mark felt like his stomach flipped and like his breath was speeding up and he could not see where he was going, so Jaebum's voice was all he had to guide him through it. He opened his mouth to speak, he was not sure what he was going to say, what his teacher exactly meant but he had to say something. That was, until Jaebum continued.

"We're doing something bad," Jaebum looked at Mark, defeated and confused, the words slipped out of his mouth before he could double check them. "Alright, sweetheart?"

When it rains, it pours, the weather at that moment was proof enough of it, but when Mark stepped on his toes, banged against the coffee table making the hot, boiling tea drop on his teacher's legs and hurl over to straddle him on the couch, he felt it. Mark was the rain and Mark was the thunder and Mark was the sun and Mark was every natural disaster and wonder on the planet.

Which was why Jaebum squeezed his eyes shut when Mark kissed his cheek as if it hurt him to be touched by his student, as if it hurt Mark not to be able to touch his teacher. As if one caught burns and the other could not breathe without the older. He kissed his cheeks, gasped harshly on his neck, grinded down on him and held his hair in his hand.

"You can't do this so suddenly, teacher," Mark said. "Who told you this, teacher? What happened?"

Jaebum admired his self-control, but he forced himself to grasp Mark's wrists and pin them to his sides, wanting to push him off but not fully able to do it because it was done with half his heart, the other half wanting nothing more but to drown in his student and his student to drown in him, drowning into each other all the while being the bubble keeping them breathing.

"Don't," Jaebum warned, looking up at Mark's eyes which seemed more crystal that ever. "Please."

"I love you," Mark said, kissed him hard and good and deep and he fell back so he was lying down with one leg off the couch all the while Mark cupped his face and kissed the older man with more fervor than ever, messier than they ever let it be. "I love you, teacher."

It was the second time he said he loved him and it burned. It burned so he moaned, and Mark smiled into his kiss. With that, Jaebum felt the weight of his entire life and of all the things he never wanted to recognize as a problem - his shitty home situation when he was younger and how his father's girlfriends of the week were all so much younger than he was, more attracted to Jaebum than they were to his father.

So Jaebum let himself drown in it, He kissed Mark with more passion than ever and he knew that they were just trying to kiss their problems away, huddled in a cocoon of each others arms protecting one another from the 'real world' they had no control over. When Mark looked at his teacher, he felt like he looked more boyish than before.

Mark didn't voice it, but it was then when he knew that it was going to be their last time.

"You don't love me," Jaebum said sincerely, putting his hands up Mark's sweater and pinching his nipples hard. "You don't love me."  
  
"I do, teacher," Mark swore. "You're all I have."

His teacher was not all he had.  
  
"You have so much more -" Jaebum put his thumb over Mark's lips, going down till he reached his Adam's apple, and then he squeezed it, gently pushing Mark down with his head leaning over the edge and his hand now around his throat. "I'm just a pervert. Your friends know it, Youngjae knows it, you're suffering because of me."  
  
_I am a pervert, too._ Mark was going to respond but when he tried to speak he choked up on his own saliva and his vision went blurry with the pressure around his throat and the weight of hearing his teacher's words. Then he let go, and he gasped for air while his teacher was between his legs, pulling his jeans down and mouthing on his hardening cock over his briefs.  
  
That was, until he let his head fall on the bottom of Mark's tummy, and he looked up to Mark trying to catch his breath, arms supporting himself to look down on his teacher who suddenly seemed so much younger than before.  
  
"I want every inch of you," Jaebum said, coming out as a whisper. "You're my perfect little cheerleader." He kissed his thighs. "But I can't force you into that."

Mark had nothing else to say except assuring him that _I love you, teacher, I love you so much, if you leave me I'll suffocate and die, oh, teacher._  
  
But his teacher was both the water making him choke and the oxygen mask keeping him alive. He was scared what it was like without him even though he had been swimming since the age of seven. He became addicted to breathing and he could breath with his mouth on his teachers who taught him how to inhale and exhale so well.  
  
He felt the cold metal of Jaebum's belt wrap around his wrists, tensing it up to the highest possibility and it burned against his sensitive skin till Jaebum kissed it good, and then kissed his lips with something that was unmistakingly love - Without tongue, but a soft kiss with his hands tied up.  
  
"You can't live without me either, teacher," Mark was sure of it, but everyone adapts to anything overtime. "The philosophers said it."  
  
"The philosophers don't know _shit_." And it went downhill from there, bites and licks and sucking on his skin, he choked him for a second time when Mark almost begged for his teacher to please hurt him and it was depressing to see he meant it. So Jaebum hurt him, he hurt him and grinded down on him and when Mark almost lost consciousness of his oxygen being cut off, Jaebum slapped him on the cheek to wake him up.  
  
Mark saw the stars, drifting between knowing what was happening and his vision going black and little colours that danced around. That was, until he got yanked up by his hair and forced to straddle his teacher again, head so heavy he let it fall on his shoulder, hands tied up behind his back.  
  
Jaebum gently caressed his face and opened up his mouth for Mark to suck on his thumb, he sucked it good with a little too much teeth and with that he led him down with his knees on the floor, pumping his dick with his bound hands and suckling on the tip of it with his eyes closed, breath back to normal even though his head felt light, even though he was lazily sucking on his teachers dick like it was a pacifier and he was going to sleep.  
  
Jaebum pinched his nose, forcing Mark to get off, forcing Mark on the couch, forcing his legs apart and kissed him again.  
  
"After this I want us to forget," Jaebum whispered in his ear, biting it. "About the past months, alright?"  
  
Mark shook his head, blushing and about to cry. "I love you, teacher."  
  
"You don't love me." He pulled his boxers down, prepped him with his fingers and basking in his mewls.  
  
"Stop saying that!" Mark gasped, kicking his legs around.   
  
"You don't love me," Jaebum said again, about to cry himself. "You love your _teacher,_ Mark, you don _'t know_ me."

And then it all made sense. It was what made Mark feel numb when his teacher fucked into him, made him not care that he came inside him for the first time and that it made his tummy feel full and at the bliss of his own orgasm made him feel like he wished he had never come.  
  
Jaebum took the hair out of his eyes, released wrists out of his belt which made him bruise deep and red and was surely going to be purple - it was when he stood up and pulled his jeans up, it was when he smiled at him in sadness.

It was then when he knew he was with Im Jaebum, the person, and not with his teacher.

 

* * *

**AN I feel like this story has dipped in quality real hard with the last couple of chapters, but I can't get into the same feel I got in in the beginning, I'm sorry guys, this was supposed to be so much more dramatic but I couldn't do it. Uh, either way. We're almost finished - what do you guys think? what will happen in the last two chapters? has Mark woken up or will he give in? how does Jaebum feel about all of this?? whatever does Jaebum's teacher have to do with it????? thanks for reading and for being so patient with me love yall !!**

 


	13. Chapter Thirteen.

_"Don't worry, I'm a big boy now."_

-

 

When Mark said that he did his best, he meant it. When Jinyoung and Jackson showed up at his apartment later that night shoving news articles and newspaper cuts in his face, Mark could only dryly laugh out loud when he scanned over and read them - the anticipation and nervousness evident on his friends faces of what Mark's reaction was going to be.

"We're sorry, Mark, but we feel like we had to tell yo-"

Mark laughed again, shaking his head, covering his hands with his long pijama sleeves and sniffed a little from the cold. Then he looked at them, at Jinyoung and Jackson, and smiled sadly, not with his full heart, but at least he tried.

"I know, Jackson," He knew, he sighed, he looked at his two friends, his real friends who've had his back since forever. "So, videogames and chips?" Mark suggested, nodding towards his room, and Jackson and Jinyoung almost broke down in tears when he said it.

 

-

 

Despite his strong facade, Mark bit his nails more than he usually did, and even though he fell into a routine which was slowly but steadily organizing his brain which was previously shattered in scrambles, his chest still tightened everytime he walked by himself in the school hallways.

It was Monday and, normally, he was supposed to have his special one on one class with Mr.Im. For the first few weeks after the last time they properly talked to one another, Mark could not help but awkardly stand in front of Mr.Ims classroom hoping he would walk out and snap, breaking Mark in the process of it.

Unfortunately, this never happened, because Jaebum could see who was outside from the inside out, could see Mark's skinny figure and demin layers on his shoulders as he waited for minutes and up to an hour for him to come out.

They didn't talk to each other for the rest of the school year, and when his father congratulated him on getting a perfect score in philosophy time and time again, he thought that maybe Mr.Im passed his page over with ease.

Unfortunately, for Mark, Mr.Im was a whole entire book, instead.

Mark did not think about Mr.Im any less than he usually did and, painfully enough, nor did Mr.Im go a day without thinking of his special little, smart and bright student Mark Tuan. Jaebum and Youngjae lived together again, and although Jaebum still refused to see a professional, he could live knowing he told the truth when he said he was not going to mess with Mark ever again.

Gradually, at some point in early spring Mark and Jinyoung started dating each other. It went a little bit like coffee spice and falling leaves, when Jinyoung and Mark were working a project together after Jinyoung dropped out to follow normal classes instead, and after a lot of persuasion from Jackson, Jinyoung got the courage to ask him out on a date.

"I know you're still hurting - but do you remember what I said at the camp?" He had asked, and of course, naturally, Mark remembered what he had said at the camp. So he nodded, and when he nodded, Jinyoung blushed.

"I still mean it." Jinyoung confessed, and Mark's little heart welled up at the sight of Jinyoung trying to hide himself in his oversized scarf. Wondering if he could learn to love like a normal person, he smiled at him, coffee cup half drank and all.

"We can try, I think I might like you too, I'm not sure yet."

This half-assed confession had Jinyoung beaming bright in his seat and the smile was never off his face whenever he was with Mark. Even so, deep in his heart he always knew that if Mr.Im were to peek his ugly head around the corner again, he knew that Mark would not think twice of running into his arms again. It unsettled him, but he tried not to think about it.

Trying was much easier than Mark thought it was going to be. They were alone a lot because Jackson got back with his ex-girlfriend despite the both of them telling him that it was a bad idea, and it kind of reminded him of himself. Even so, he learned to love Jinyoung, maybe not to the tiniest of details, but he knew that he had the most beautiful smile he had ever seen, and his eye wrinkles were adorable to him. Moreover, he was really smart, and he cooked for Mark whenever he asked him to.

Soon enough, with graduation being a week away and Jinyoung and Mark having successfully dated for three months of kisses and hugs but never doing anything more than that in case Mark was uncomfortable with it, Mark thought that his healing process was coming to a close and, finally, with the help of his father and his friends, he thought he could finally forget about Mr.Im, _his_ teacher Im.

 

-

 

They met Yugyeom and BamBam in a night club, when BamBam was dressed in heels and skirts and long hair extensions which Yugyeom was holding up so he could throw up in the toilet ot his hearts (or his stomaches) content.

Naturally, Mark was shocked at the sight, hurrying to help the taller, bigger boy when he dropped a piece of the skinnier boy's fake hair and held it up for him, Jinyoung and Jackson standing behind him drunk off their feet and laughing at the situation because of course - who would stress out as much as they did over a wig getting dirty?

Drunk club bathroom conversations were apparently the best place to make friends, Mark learned, because they spent the night with the two boys who were half a year younger than them, and Yugyeom had explained that it was a dare and BamBam was prone to going all out when he was told he couldn't do something.

They exchanged numbers and over the week leading up their graduation, they became an essential part of their friend group, almost like they were never missing, and after finding out that they were going to the same university, they all decided to look for an apartment to share with each other.

Jinyoung smiled at the thought, him and his boyfriend and his friends far away in Seoul, spending the rest of their youth together in normalicy and happiness. Mark considered it, and thought that it was a good idea as well.

 

-

 

Of course, old habits die hard and upon graduation, his suit on and his father and sister almost crying at the doorstep when Jinyoung showed up at their doorstep looking gorgeous and Mark giving him a bouquet of roses upon his arrival, just like his father suggested him, he felt overwhelmed.

Jinyoung drove them towards the location of their graduation, and Mark truly could not believe that he had lived a bunch of their last times in the last year, wondering how he had ever made it that far.

"Will you miss it?" Jinyoung asked.

"Nah," Mark answered when they arrived. "If it's worth sticking around, it'll find a way." He said.

Jinyoung seemed to be satisfied with the response. The evening rolled by quickly and emotionally, each person getting called up and pictures of their freshman year being played in the background with corny sad pop ballads to make it seem that much sadder than it actually was. Mark scanned the audience and, surely, he saw Youngjae, and next to him was Jaebum.

He felt like he was going to go sick, so he ran up stage for his diploma and ran off stage to go to the bathroom to calm down his beating heart and tell himself that he could get through the rest of the night without looking at either of them, memories filling up his space like he was going to drown in it.

 

-

 

Life finds a way, so when Mark got lost in the hotel the school rented out for them it was to be expected that he ran into the wrong room, at the wrong time when a man looking gorgeous in a suit and slicked back, black hair was talking on the phone, sitting by the window frame and letting the moonlight envelope his skin and brighten it up like he was a modern day vampire or expensive sucessor of a model company.

Five months. It had been five months since they had last seen each other. When Jaebum hung up the phone, he noticed that Mark was there, and his face contorted into a million and one expressions at the same time, from flustered to confused and even sadness.

Finally, he decided to stick with unbothered. Relaxed, like they were the teacher and student that they were initially supposed to be. Jaebum stood up and walked closer to him, but not too close, and smiled.

"So you've graduated," He said. "Congratulations, Mark."

And he broke, the 'Mark' sounding a little bit too endearing and familiar than he intended for it to sound. Mark clenched his hand around the doorknob, shutting his eyes closed and praying to the gods for someone to either walk in on them or let go of the past five months and yell at his teacher right then and there.

"Guess I'm no longer your teacher." Jaebum said, satisfied and intending on walking out, but Mark blocked the door and he was trapped. Trapped and of course he noticed how Mark matured over the five months. He had gotten a little bit slimmer, his hair a little bit longer but had a healthier glow to his complexion than before.

Mark was turning into a real man in front of him. Jaebum almost felt emotional.

"Did it mean anything to you?" Mark asked sincerely, still looking at the floor not trusting himself to look up and not betray all of his morals and Jinyoung. Knowing perfectly well that not only did Jaebum look gorgeous in a suit, but that their chemistry would connect and that was the part which scared Mark the most. It was easy to fall into obsession with your past, and Jaebum represented that.

So when Jaebum was asked if it meant anything to him, he took a step back and thought about it. Of course, his world was twisted and crashed when he was with Mark - of course that was something to him. So he told Mark this, forgetting to worry about the time or the even starting in the main hall.

There he was again, loosing track of the real world for Mark. It was almost funny and definitely pathetic.

"I still want you, every single day, teacher." Mark broke, grip loosening on the door knob and looking up to the teacher who, in normal circumstance, could not look at him as an equal and not as his student. Unfortunately, that was all their relationship was ever going to be.

Jaebum let out a shaky breath. "Me too, Mark."

Step forward, eyes closed, Mark's hands on Jaebum's shoulders which were still as strong as he remembered them to be, and he closed the gap between them and kissed him softly on the lips, the softness taking Jaebum's, actual Jaebum's breath away and making him take three steps back, while Mark took three steps forward.

"I wish this could have gone differently," Mark whispered. "I would've fallen for you as just Im Jaebum too, you know?"

Jaebum felt tears in his eyes and took a grip of himself, holding Mark's shoulders and looked at him who was almost his height now. He looked at him, at his face which seemed more mature and, finally, he kissed his forehead.

"You're a big boy now, Mark," He said. "It's time for the both of us to get better. Then, after we've recovered and fully healthy, if fate so has it that it wants us to meet again, we can get to know each other as Mark Tuan and Im Jaebum, the adults."

Mark nodded. He understood, and this was the first and perhaps last lesson the real Im Jaebum had taught him. So he let out a shaky breath and smiled.

"I'll leave now, Mark, Congratulations."

And with that, he opened the door to reveal a surprised Jinyoung right outside of it. Jaebum nodded at him in acknowledgement, congratulated him and made his move far, far away from them not knowing that Jinyoung quickly hugged Mark from behind and pleaded him to tell him what happened, searching for any signs of physical contact.

"Don't worry, Jinyoungie," Mark said, and he meant it. "I'm a big boy now, I can handle myself. Don't stress your beautiful self out over this, alright?"

Alright. Jinyoung believed Mark, and, just like that, their night was spent in jolly melancholy over their school days drowned in happy hour beers and alcohol stains on their expensive suits. That was the first time Mark took Jinyoung to bed and truly took the time to discover each others bodies in the most pure, innocent way possible.

Mark could get used to this, he thought, everything to recover and fix himself.

 

* * *

 

 

**Triple update on my fics lmao. I was shook when I saw I hadnt updated this September and churned this out in like, less than an hour. This and the next chapter are a breeze to write compared to the difficult, previous chapters, and despite my love-hate relationship with this fic, I'm sad to see it go. Thank you all so much for all the love it has been getting, it truly means so much to me and I hope this conclusion isn't disappointing you all.**

**Thank you for reading, the next chapter is the last and tell me what you think !!**

 


	14. Chapter Fourteen.

_"Some could say that I was the one taking advantage of you."_

 

-

 

"What are you looking for?"

The question was almost offensive to Mark who looked up to the source of the voice in pure bewilderment - as if he didn't think that there was anybody actually standing in his room at that moment. Therefore, Mark did not answer, and continued to rummage through the drawers of his closet to find the damn tie he was sure he put on the desk the night before, unfortunately, the only things he found were leopard print boxer shorts and thongs that were given to him - _mostly_ \- as a gift and token of friendship.

That was, until he felt a soft and silk fabric feathering over his cheek. Scandalized, Mark looked up to see that it was Jinyoung rolling his eyes at him.

"Looking for your tie, mister _highschool counselor_?"

At this, Mark sighed and let himself fall on his butt on what was supposed to be the cold hard ground which was, really, not that cold or hard, because he had tossed half his closet on it and, therefore, was more warm and soft than anything else. Jinyoung sighed into a smile and bent down to put it around his boyfriends neck, just like he had done eight years ago during their highschool graduation, just like he had done so when his father got re-married, just like he had done when he graduated university with a psychology degree and then, on his first day working as a counselor.

"You don't have to wear a tie on your first day, you know that right?"

Mar huffed and puffed his cheeks and blew the hair which covered his eyes away. He had told himself he would go the hairdresser three times in half a year, but on all three times he found an excuse not to go. Jinyoung worried a lot about Mark, his boyfriend who was clumsy and got easily nervous - the difference was that, unlike his highschool days, Mark was forced to overcome his fears and gradually, he mostly learned how to turn his anxiety on and off like living room lights.

Even if at times, they forgot to pay the electricity bills and the lights wouldn't work even if he wanted them to.

Just like that, the two boys turned from boys to men right in front of each other, growing with one another. Mark more filled out than he used to be, with strong arms, legs and wide shoulders he got from the gym, and Jinyoung, who seemed to have gotten more delicate and feminine over the years. They were a couple made out of a psychology graduate and law school drop out. Jinyoung became a notorious make-up artist, instead.

"Thanks, baby," Mark said, and pecked his boyfriends lips. "Let's have pizza tonight, yeah?"

"Yeah - should we go and get it together? I get off early tonight." Jinyoung said, already texting BamBam who worked at their favourite pizzeria to leave some for them.

"Sounds good, I'll wait for you downtown,"And then, Mark checked his phone and jumped up from the floor. "Shit, I'm running late. I love you, baby."

"You're so _not_ running late," Jinyoung rolled his eyes for the second time that morning, but pecked his lips again, regardless. "I love you too, you'll do fine, I believe in you."

"Thanks."

And just like that, Mark raced out of his apartment in the middle of Seoul, which was small and full of make-up brushes and wigs than Jinyoung brought home from work, canvases of paintings and a ton of books and houseplants to mess the place up. They had been living there since Mark's third year of university, a year after Jinyoung dropped out and his parents cut their support towards their son - and although the paint was coming off and the tiles were cracking, they had a bathtub and each other and that, in Mark's opinion, made it his sacred, happy place that he would not ever give up for the world.

He wanted to protect it.

 

-

 

The day was tough and the kids were tougher. Mark briefly forgot what highschoolers could be like despite being warned about it during his university days, but he quickly realized that they did not lie when they said that the next student always had a bigger problem than the first.

In Mark's opinion, career orientation was the easiest thing to do because they weren't inherently emotional decisions, most kids too fazed out to really care about what they were going to do. In Mark's opinion, the bullying was the absolute worst.

"The last counselor left a lot of unfinished work for you, huh?" Said the fourth kid that paid him a visit. Out of all the kids, he stayed in his office the longest.

Mark did not want to make assumptions about highschoolers, but there was something about the boys character that felt both familiar and unsettling, because he was quick-witted and seemed like he had all the answers but just did not feel like making the puzzle. Mark might have liked him the best.

"Was he nice?" Mark had asked him, after sighing and admitting that yes, the previous counselor left him with an unfair amount of unfinished counselor sessions he would have to read on to understand the situation of each kid he was helping before he left.

"No," The kid, who had black hair and eyebrow piercings, said. "He was a total asshole. He took advantage of the females, didn't they tell you that?"

Nobody told him that, so when he scheduled and appointment with piercing boy (who really, Mark didn't think had an actual problem to discuss with him but just wanted to mess around and miss class in his office) he rubbed his nose and felt that the tension of the day had gotten the best of him. Finally, the day was over and Mark yearned for a night of tv and his boyfriend on the couch.

Mark briefly doubted his own capabilities, and wondered if he was suited to do a proper job.

With that though clouding over his mind like the clouds towered over the November night sky, Mark walked towards the cafeteria where he'd meet Jinyoung with a schoolbag full of documents around his shoulders - there, met the full bustling of seven pm central Seoul hustle, he realized that the only place left was the table by the window.

He saw students with laptops talking over cups of coffee and messing up their notes when one of them laughed too hard - the loudness reminded him of Jackson, who was still in an ugly relationship with his ex-girlfriend. He saw elderly people and, finally, he saw pitch black hair which fit on the highschoolers head almost like a mushroom, wearing a white knitted sweater and rings around his fingers, typing away on his laptop.

Mark, ushered forward by the people walking behind him, almost tripped infront of the boy and eventually fell into the couch of the cafeteria, having ordered his coffee at the bar, he texted Jinyoung to ask where he was, six sighs and one coffee ordered later, he got a call.

"Jinyoungie, what's up? Did anything happen?"

If Mark noticed that the man behind him stopped typing, he didn't say it. Instead, he listened to Jinyoung complain about the man he was working with and how he was not happy with his job so he had to do it over again.

_"I can't even ditch because he's a big deal. Sorry baby, but it'll run for a little bit longer, I'll be there in half an hour, alright? How was work?"_

"I'll tell you when you get here, alright?"

_"Alright - though that tone tells me enough. I'll get there as fast as I can."_

With that, Mark hung up with the voice of someone on the other line yelling at Jinyoung to get off the phone. That was, until he noticed someone basically breathing down his neck, and frankly, it was quite uncomfortable, in Mark's opinion, so he turned around.

At that moment, Mark truly felt like life was playing tricks on him. So he stayed stiff, the entire cafeteria full of clinking cups and people talking over one another seemingly coming to a rash halt that did more bad than good, his breath caught in his throat and his mouth letting out little stutter, but no coherent words.

Mark, twenty six year olds and mostly in control of his emotions, felt his seventeen year old self ghost over his coffee cup, laughing at how stupid he must have looked to everybody around them, even if everybody around them was not looking at him in the first place.

"Teacher?"

And so, the man who he thought was a boy turned out to be nine years older than him, looking mostly younger than him, all soft features and light coloured clothes, his hair looking fluffy and like it smelled like vanilla instead of beer and leather.

The name slipped out of his mouth so naturally, it was as if the man in front of him had no other name besides that. Jaebum - Mark quickly remembered, even though the name never ever left his heart in the first place, and he told himself, just to make sure that he wasn't loosing his mind, that it was Im Jaebum in front of him, looking so different to what he looked like eight years ago walking the hallways of his highschool. It had almost been a decade.

Jaebum, his teacher, visibly gulped, looked like he considered lying to him and telling Mark that he wasn't his teacher, that he had gotten the wrong person and he would turn around and drink his coffee with shaking hands and them he would run out of the cafeteria. No, instead of all of that, he said,

"Y-yeah."

And oh, was his voice as soft as he looked.

Funnily enough, the both of them were thinking of the same thing at that exact moment, which was what they were supposed to do, whether they should pray that the floor would swallow them up separately or if they had to collapse on each other and furiously make out in front of innocent bystanders. Truthfully, Mark realized, normal student teacher reunions would not go like any of that, so he smiled, collected himself.

"It's been a while." He said, and really, it had been a while.

Jaebum looked embarrassed, even more embarrassed than Mark was feeling, and it was nauseating almost how he could hardly recognize the man who he had never seen vulnerable except for their last moments. So he stood up automatically without any consent from his brain, and sat in front of his teacher saying that there was a family by the door looking for a place to sit in.

"How have you been?" Jaebum awkwardly asked, fingering his cup and not looking at the younger man in the eyes. "Did you have a job interview?" He said, nodding towards his tie.

Mark laughed softly, unable to drink his coffee knowing that he would probably throw up all over the table if he not so much attempted to do it.

"No - It was my first day," And when Jaebum asked him what he did, Mark bashfully replied with, " A counselor. I studied psychology."

Mark recognized the unmistakable smile on Jaebum's face, genuine and soft. "I'm proud of you. It fits you well." He said.

Mark smiled back and, just like that, it felt like he gave Jaebum, the teacher who messed him up like no other hurricane could ever do in his vulnerable highschool days, the permission to look at him in the eyes. After all these years, it almost felt like forgiveness.

Even if, in his heart, he had never blamed him in the first place.

He never told anyone that, though.

"What about you?" The word _teacher_  after the question was silent. They both heard it.

"A year after you graduated," Jaebum held his own hands, looked out of the window. "I got my masters degree - I'm an university professor now, I guess."

"Really?" Mark's eyes lit up at the thought. "That's amazing! Did they not let you wear leather jackets anymore, or something?"

His voice was definitely more juvenile than it had been in a very long time but Mark did his best not to think about it and Jaebum tried his hardest not to recognize it. They were trying.

"No, a lot of things happened after that, but my father passing definitely had something to do with it, it made something in me switch and realize a lot of things."

Mark nodded, sighing, and took the time to observe his old teacher. Softer than before, all the while Mark had gotten more edgy and it was his turn to wear leather jackets and dark clothes, instead, while Jaebum had sweater paws with his thirty five years of age. Jaebum was looking at him too, and Mark did not know that they were both thinking the same thing.

"How is Youngjae?" Mark carefully asked.

"Broke up," Jaebum said, looking embarassed again when Mark tilted his head expecting him to tell him about it. "I, uh, cheated on him and he kicked me to the curb. Heard he's engaged now. I'm just a lonely old man, sad, huh?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Listen!" Jaebum suddenly said just when Mark was going to reply, and Jaebum grabbed his hand right before he realized it was not appropriate and he quickly put it back in his own. "I'm sorry. For everything. I know it will never be enough, but I took advantage of you when I was down - it wasn't right."

Mark sighed and smiled, finally being able to take a gulp from his coffee which was getting cold, and Jaebum did not expect that at all.

"Some might say _I_ was the one taking advantage of _you_ , you know? I think you were off worse than I was after that."

It was a simple answer and Mark would be lying if he said that there was anything more to it. He didn't know what it meant for him to be that way, perhaps he was just sick, perhaps he really was the one exploiting his teacher instead of the other way around. He was his coping mechanismto him, after all, and not another human being.

"That's not true - you were so young."

"Doesn't mean I was stupid. Highschoolers are a lot more authentic than adults are, I saw it today and you must have been seeing it all your life, that's why you were interested me in the first place, right?"

Jaebum gulped at this, and finally broke into a smile.

"I can't believe this."

"Do you blame your old university teacher for what happened to you?" Mark then asked, having finished his cup.

"No," Jaebum answered sincerely. "Not directly, at least. But my thoughts were scrambled back then, maybe it was her fault, I don't know."

"There's your answer." Mark said, having proven his point of not having proved anything at all, morals and law completely irrelevant to their conversation, Jaebum pointed out that Mark had grown up a lot, and Mark replied that he sure hoped that he did.

"You're still amazing to me, Mark."

That hit Mark a little bit harder than it should have, almost hitting his lungs and heart. So Mark looked up to him, his teacher, and smiled nervously, played with his fingers and felt a queasiness in his body that he hadn't felt in a very long time.

"Please throw it away if it's inappropriate," Jaebum said, taking a napkin and scribbling on it with a pen he had lying on his notebook. "But here's my number. Do what you want with it."

And so, just like that, Jaebum stood up quickly as if he had noticed something, he picked up his laptop and put it in his bag, drank the last of his coffee, and took one last look at Mark Tuan, the man who was once his little, dearest boy he loved so much.

With that, he said,

"It was nice to see you, Mark."

And not knowing that he left Mark in the middle of a storm that made him unable to reply to him, he walked out of the cafeteria he had never been in before that day - he didn't recognize Jinyoung when they crossed paths by the door, and if Jinyoung recognized Jaebum, well, Jinyoung did not mention it when he found Mark and sat in front of him, already talking the night away.

Not noticing Jaebum, but noticing the damage left behind. The two cups of coffee on the table even if Mark was on his own, the one hand Mark held his head with so it wouldn't topple over the table and the other in his pocket where he had clutched the napkin with Jaebum's number on it.

It took Mark a couple of minutes to recover from those simple words, beyond the apology and the confessions 'you're still amazing to me,' Jaebum had said, and it left Mark's mind a whirlwind for no explicable reason, even though, deep in his heart, Mark knew the reason.

Which was when he looked up to see Jinyoung, his boyfriend looking concerned, and he was thrown back into the real world, his day-to-day, leaving him wondering whether he had imagined all of it or whether it was real.

"You look pale, are you alright?"

Mark sighed, coughed, took Jinyoung's hands into his own.

"I'm fine." He said, and the best part was that he meant it. He really did.

"You're being weird," Jinyoung giggled. "Hey, who's cup is this?"

"You know that I love you, right?"

Jinyoung rolled his eyes again.

"Like I said, _weird_."

* * *

 

**AN So. It's all over, even though this is a weak ending to the story and I would be lying if I said that I'm not tempted to make a sequel where Mark and Jaebum truly fall in love with each other, but I feel like doing that would defeat the entire purpose of the story. Which, as weird as it is, really did have a purpose, which is - life is a first time for everybody, and from the philosophers to our parents to our teachers and friends, nobody really knows what the answer is or knows the difference between right and wrong. This is what I thought about when I began my first chaptered fic, and I hope the message has come across.**

**That said ! the best part was definitely the crazy response I got, to everyone who has been reading and especially the people who have been commenting, thank you so much !!! I really didn't think that I could finish this story, and now it has ! Because of you !**

**Finally, I close this chapter with a thank you and I'll be picking up my neglected stories now. Again, thank you so much ! Also let's follow each other on Tumblr I follow from a different account bc it's dumb but my user is Wangsmixtape !!!! goodbye !!!!!**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Not 2 b lame but this is actually a lil important to me because while I mostly write with the good conscious of knowing that it´s fanfiction and quick entertainment, I wrote this just like how I would write a novel, so, hopefully, it won´t or didn´t dissapoint. Thank you for reading <3


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